Baseline
by csishewolf
Summary: COMPLETED And now I can write a real summary Sara and Grissom deal with the aftermath of her suspension, the Sophia dinner, and the arrival of a new CSI PostUnbearable Please R&R And thank you, kind reviewers
1. For Every Action

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Nesting Dolls – like, right after the final scene

**A/N: **It took me 3 chapters to write Grissom and Co. out of the gaping hole of uncertainty – more is coming if you would like. Please review and let me know if you'd like more past these 3. (This is Version 2 - I fixed the spacing issues to make this easier to read.)

* * *

Grissom walked back to his office, his mind still reeling from his conversation with Ecklie and Catherine. Ecklie's animosity towards him was a given, but it seemed as if Catherine was allying herself with him as well. 

This would not bode well for his team. Well, his current team, and his old team. He still considered Warrick and Nick as his.

Grissom sighed as he sat down behind his desk, eyeing the piles of paperwork surrounding him. It had been a long day already, but his shift wasn't over for another 6 hours.

He was flying on an adrenaline high from the events of the whole day. He needed to focus. He had made a commitment to himself earlier in the shift to tackle these growing piles of meaningless bureaucracy, and realistically, tonight was a good night. Sophia was off examining evidence from a small-time robbery that happened last night, and Greg was helping her.

Sara had finished her case two nights ago, which was why he saw no harm in loaning her to Catherine last night.

Sara. No, he couldn't think about that just yet. Now wasn't the right time or place to think about any of _that._

As he was about to begin sorting through the papers to determine what required his immediate attention, he heard the clop-clop of heels pounding the linoleum floor in a very determined manner.

Catherine was clearly fired up when she came storming into his office. He could sense her animosity the minute she walked through his doorway.

"What do you think you're playing at here, Grissom?" Catherine's voice was loud and shrill as she walked over to his desk.

Grissom knew this was a sign that he should handle this conversation carefully. Catherine knew a little too much about him and Sara Sidle, and Grissom didn't want anything she might shout in anger to become common knowledge in the lab.

"Please close the door, Catherine."

"Fine." She strode over and shut the door with enough force for it to make a _whoosh_ noise and close with a moderate thud. She pulled out the office chair on the other side of the desk, rolling it to directly face him, and sat down.

"I don't understand what is going through that brain of yours. Sara was clearly out of line and deserved to be suspended. She's out of control, and it's blatantly obvious that she's lost the ability to do her job properly. I don't know why all of a sudden you think you have to protect her. Or are you just hiding your head in the sand, like always? Dr. Grissom, with his Ph.D. in Avoiding Difficult Situations."

Grissom winced inwardly but let Catherine continue. She needed to get this out of her system or else her anger towards him would increase, and make things uncomfortable for him and his staff.

Grissom's primary concern was to ensure that the work environment in the lab would remain as stable as possible. He didn't want this to turn into a division between his staff and hers.

He hoped she would continue with her ranting, and then calm herself down and then they could talk things through rationally. He had been down this road with Catherine before, and expected her to calm down once she was through.

"We all know she's got this thing for you Grissom. Jesus, it's clear to anyone that walks through the front door into this lab. For this reason alone, she should go. I even think she _wants_ to go. Why are you insisting on keeping her around? And to risk your career? You really upset Ecklie, you know. Conrad and I were talking about it and…"

Grissom stiffened and raised his head to meet Catherine's eye. "I don't really care what Conrad Ecklie thinks. I am wondering why, all of a sudden, you do."

Catherine's mouth clicked shut as she met his gaze. Her eyes were cold and distant. This wasn't going the way he intended. But when she brought up Ecklie, and called him _Conrad…_

"What are you insinuating here, Grissom?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Grissom kept his voice level and calm. "But as your associate, and your friend, I am surprised that you would show such a lack of compassion with regards to Sara's sensitivities."

Catherine voice was clipped when she said "Showing compassion to Sara's 'sensitivities' is not a requirement to keep food on my table. Showing compassion is not a requirement for this _job_, either As a matter of fact, our _job_ is to remain objective and un-biased. Or have you forgotten that?"

Catherine leaned back in the chair, emanating a sense of pride and self-confidence.

"I haven't. I like being a supervisor and I like the swing shift. I have time to spend with Lindsey now. I am not about to risk losing that."

"I'm not saying that you should, Cath." Grissom was trying to keep his voice stable, but he knew there was an undercurrent of hostility and disgust creeping in.

Her feelings towards Sara were clear, and it bothered him. He had assumed Sara and Catherine were on more sociable terms. It seemed that Sara was more alone here at work than he realized.

He sighed purposefully, looked Catherine straight in the eye and said, "I had just assumed that you, of all people, would be respectful of the fact that we are all human, and we all have our weaknesses."

Catherine's demeanor changed instantly, and in not a good way. _Oops_. Perhaps he should have worded that differently.

"Don't you pull that crap with me, Gil. I am not about to sit here and listen to you play this 'pot calling the kettle black' thing because I can assure you, that is not the case."

Catherine rose from her chair with a start, pushing it back to roll to the middle of the floor. Her hostility was palpable.

Grissom cringed. This was not what he had planned, but he was not going to back out now. He made a commitment to himself and to Sara earlier today.

Catherine placed both her hands on Grissom's desk with enough force to shift some of the files in the process. She was eye to eye and within inches of his face when she spoke to him, her voice low and filled with a venom he hadn't heard from her in a long time.

"If you want to risk your career over a piece of ass then by all means do so. But don't expect me to come picking up the pieces this time, buddy, because I have better things to do with my life now."

Grissom met her gaze and narrowed his eyes at her. He was not about to dignify that comment with a response.

The tension between them was thick. Catherine finally broke their staring contest, scattering more papers in the process, and walked herself to his door. She turned and gave him a look that was half-anger, half-disgust and said, "You're own your own with this one. Have fun."

Out of some respect for office decency and perhaps some new-found maturity, Catherine closed the door calmly and walked away as if nothing had happened.

Grissom noted this and his temper began to cool a little as he watched his old friend walk down the corridor. He put his head between his hands and groaned.

What was happening? Why was Sara's behavior really such a big deal?

From what he'd heard, Sara had been disrespectful to a suspect, but at times, so had they all. Sara and Catherine had exchanged words, but again, this had happened before. Both he and Catherine had also been suspended before. Again, this was nothing new and things had continued on as normal afterwards. Why should it be any different this time?

_Ecklie_, he thought.

Ecklie saw Sara and Catherine, and saw it as an opportunity to strike at Sara when she was vulnerable. Ecklie knew, as well as anyone in the lab, that Sara was not one to hold back, especially when she had a full head of steam going already. He used her and manipulated her into suspending herself.

Although Grissom knew that Sara's conduct with Catherine and the suspect was wrong. She did deserve to be reprimanded for it. But Ecklie took it over the top.

Grissom knew Ecklie didn't do this out of any hatred towards Sara personally, but as a way to get at him through his staff. Ecklie was the reason this has blown out of control.

Grissom's blood pounded with the frustration and bitterness that Ecklie brought out in him. He pictured Ecklie's smirking grin during their whole conversation. "_I've been there… It doesn't work." _

And his condescending tone with,_ "I'm sure you do." _

Since when had Conrad become an expert on the human psyche? "_She's a loose cannon with a gun. And she's all yours._"

No. His confidence in himself and his decision returned. She is not a loose cannon. She is my responsibility and I'm going to make sure that she's only given cases she can handle for the next few weeks. I am going to help her. I'll make sure she goes into counseling, real counseling, so she can work on this more on her own. I am going to take care of her.

A small voice in the back of Grissom's head echoed, "_Oh yeah, pal? How?"_

Grissom looked up from his desk and the urge to get away was overwhelming.

He studied the paperwork and figured it wouldn't hurt for it to sit for another few hours. He stood up, walked over and pushed the office chair Catherine had recently vacated back into its original spot, and went to check on Sophia and Greg.


	2. Trace Analysis

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Nesting Dolls, and for this chapter, Mea Culpa.

**A/N:** This chapter goes out to **taramis** and **djkittycat** who noticed the minor errors within it. I couldn't let them stay, and I found even more (how awful is that?), so this is Rev 2. of Chapter 2. Thank You All Reviewers!

* * *

Greg was sitting behind the CODIS computer, watching it scan a print found on the convenience store counter.

Sophia was rooting through a pile of garbage collected from the trash cans outside the store. Most of the table was covered with the junk.

Sophia had already disposed of all the half-eaten food items. What remained was a collection of newspapers, used napkins, empty mustard and ketchup packets, empty plastic salad containers, plastic knives, those strange utensils that were both a spoon and a fork, and those paper oval-shaped cups that are used to hold hot dogs.

The important items were Styrofoam coffee cups, soda cups with straws, and there was at least one plastic water bottle. These were the items that Sophia was picking out of the garbage and putting in a separate pile. They could be used for DNA collection, if required.

Both she and Greg were silent and appeared quite focused as Grissom walked into the room.

"So?" Grissom asked them. "Do we have anything yet?"

Sophia looked up at him and said, "We have miscellaneous odiferous garbage, some potential candidates for DNA, one solid print, a few partials, and a very angry convenience store owner. He wants us to hurry up and find the guy so he can get his money back."

"Typical," Grissom replied. "You know, you can use the plastic silverware to check for DNA as well as cups and straws."

"You're right, I will." And she began picking them out of the garbage.

Grissom still wasn't sure how to handle Sophia.

She seemed quite competent and professional, yet there was something about her that reminded him of Faberge eggs and porcelain dolls. Pretty, but empty and for display purposes only.

Sophia's resemblance to Teri Miller was not missed by Grissom in the slightest. But Teri was much more vibrant and sensual, whereas Sophia seemed more flat and hollow.

Teri also was a perfectionist. He couldn't think of her without feeling a small sense of inadequacy, but he felt that what happened between them was due to her, and not to him.

Now, both Sara and Catherine were full of spirit and vitality. Sara especially so. God, that woman couldn't walk into a room without radiating her presence. And her eyes….

But Sophia, although attractive, was somewhat plain to him. Grissom still wondered what her role would be with his team.

Grissom also didn't forget about his newest CSI, Greg, who was quietly ignoring him and looking very interested in his computer.

He couldn't help but like the kid, as Greg was so exuberant and _alive_. However, Grissom hadn't forgotten Greg's crush on Sara, and he had seen the two of them together on cases since Greg left the lab.

Sara was calm and relaxed around Greg, and enjoyed his company. She clearly cared for him and had taken him under her wing. Grissom often heard them laughing quietly together, and conversation flew easily between them.

Memories of a time not so long ago showed Grissom playing Sara's role, and Sara as the eager student, ready to learn.

Seeing Sara with Greg now left a bitter taste in his mouth. He resented Greg for his ability to interact with Sara in a way that was permanently lost to him.

He looked over at Greg, who was clearly wishing he was invisible, and asked, "Everything okay, Greg?"

Greg turned his chair away from the computer to face Grissom and said, "Workin' hard, boss. Looking for matches to those prints."

And then he quickly turned back to watching the computer. Not once did he meet Grissom's gaze.

_Hmm. Had Greg spoken with Sara yet? Did he know something? What had she said to him?_ Grissom wanted to find out what Greg knew.

Luckily for him, fate intervened. Sophia's cell phone began singing some polyphonic tune that resembled the hip-hop crap Greg was always listening to. _Perhaps he is having an influence on her, as well._

She stood up with a quiet, "Excuse me," and looked at Grissom and asked "May I take this call?"

"Go ahead. I just stopped by to see if either of you needed anything".

Grissom watched Sophia turn the corner to go take her call in private. Now he could focus on Greg.

"Is there anything you need, Greg?"

Greg turned around again and Grissom could almost see Greg lifting himself up in his chair, making himself appear more confident and responsible.

Grissom tried not to smile, which he knew would make Greg uncomfortable, but he got a kick out of watching Greg bolster himself up in an attempt to gain his respect. Greg already had it, but Grissom liked to watch him squirm a little.

"Did you fire Sara?"

"No, Greg. She is on suspension until next Thursday."

"You won't believe what people are saying. They are saying that you fired her and that Ecklie made you do it. Some are saying she quit and she's leaving to go back to California. Hodges said he overheard Brass saying that Sara had a mental breakdown and checked herself into a looney bin."

Greg's voice took on a tone of defiance when he said, "Sara isn't mental. And she shouldn't have been suspended. I've seen Catherine act worse than Sara did. I asked Catherine about what we were going to do, and she acted like Sara deserved to be suspended and that she didn't care at all. And Nick and Warrick didn't want to talk to me about Sara or what Catherine said, either. They told me to stay out of it. But I'm not going to! Have you even talked to her? I called her twice last night and once already today, and she won't answer her phone."

Greg was rambling, a clear sign that he was getting upset.

Grissom wasn't about to let on that the reason Sara hadn't picked up her phone last night was because he was at her apartment, and he had turned the ringer off so that they wouldn't be disrupted.

He knew Sara wasn't answering her phone today because she had gone to run errands today, and to find a counselor in the Vegas area that specialized in dealing with domestic abuse, and hopefully one that had experience in the death of a parent by violent means.

He had even recommended that she not answer her phone unless someone left a message that it was an emergency. Sara needed some time alone to think about what it was that she wanted to do with her life.

"Sara will be fine, Greg. I'm sure she appreciates that you are concerned about her."

"You didn't answer my question. Have you even spoken to her? What if she thinks she's fired? Does she even know when she can come back?"

Greg was visibly upset now. His eyes were dark and cold, and Grissom got the distinct impression Greg thought he was an insensitive jerk.

"Yes, Greg, I spoke with her. Yes, she knows she isn't fired. And yes, she knows she is to report for work next Thursday."

Greg's eyes calmed and with a softer tone, he said, "Ok. Look, if you hear from her, please let her know that I'm trying to get in touch with her."

"Back to work, Greg. Don't worry about it. She'll be back soon," Grissom said as he left the room.

After that conversation, he felt the need to get some air.

As he walked to his Denali, he grew more and more disheartened.

Was Sara really that alone here? How hadn't he noticed?

Greg sticks up for her, but what about Nick and Warrick? And the others in the lab, the techs, Hodges, Al, David?

Did they all really think that Sara belonged in a mental institution? Did they want her to go back to California? Or was it just the excitement of a new rumor to fuel the mill?

Grissom began to wonder if they saw something that he wasn't seeing. He knew Greg was blind to anything related to Sara, he almost worshipped her. But Nick and Warrick? And Catherine?

They weren't at Sara's apartment, he rationalized. They didn't hear what happened to her. They couldn't possibly understand what she had gone through.

He didn't understand it much either. Although his parents had divorced when he was five, and his relationship with his father had dissipated over the years, his relationship with his mother remained strong to this day.

His own personal demons weren't caused by his parents, so he really couldn't relate to the pain Sara carried with her. All he knew was that she was hurting, and this in turn hurt him.

He opened the door to his SUV, sat inside, and looked out across the parking lot, staring at the parked cars, the lights, and beyond the lot, the general calm that deep night brings.

He loved working the night shift. Things were so much more interesting at night.

And his car, it was a haven. Only those who enjoy solitude can appreciate the wonderful respite of a vehicle.

There were times he liked to drive out into the desert, leaving the chaos of Vegas, just listening to his radio or even the sounds of the tires on the asphalt. He was pleased he could hear them. His mind would wander and he would be at peace. Sometimes he would stop and marvel at the sheer silence of the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the beauty of the sun, the sky and the sand.

He had gotten some of his best ideas while driving around aimlessly on the backroads of the Nevada desert before and after work.

Grissom gave himself a moment to be proud of himself. He had done a lot in the past 36 hours.

He went to Sara's apartment with the intention of finding out what was really going on with her, and he succeeded. It took most of the afternoon to get her to drop her guard and open up to him, but he was glad that he stayed.

He had no idea what he was going to do when he first got there, but when he heard Ecklie had suspended her, he made up his mind to go over there and find out her version of why.

If he had known the truth about her past previously, he could have handled her so much differently at work.

He could have been more available to her as a supervisor, kept her within her limits, protected her from seeing cases she wasn't capable of handling at the time.

He knew the real reason he wasn't available to her before was due to his own personal issues with her, but he knew now that if he wasn't there at all, she would be gone forever. He couldn't lose her. That was out of the question.

It was going to be difficult, but he was going to be there for her as a supervisor. He only wondered how much it was going to tear him apart to be there for her as _only_ her supervisor.

Standing up to Ecklie had been great.

He chuckled quietly. He normally preferred to let all of the emotional chaos at work take its own course, as it tended to work in waves; where at first it was this huge ordeal and then eventually, everyone got over it.

Except for the split. When Ecklie split the team, it was a shock and it hurt to realize that his oversight had caused it. But he couldn't stand up to Ecklie, because he had no case. There was nothing he could say - he had missed the evidence and he had made the mistake. It was his fault.

But tonight, that was different. It was… exhilarating. He felt very alive and confident during the whole thing.

He suspected Ecklie would never fire him, and this conversation proved it. He was too valuable. This gave him a power over Ecklie, but he knew better than to take it for granted or use it profusely. He had an advantage, but it was only a small one.

However, the Catherine factor did bother him.

But again, perhaps in a couple of days, she would calm down and things would return to normal. If not, well, realistically it wasn't like he had to interact with her much. She had her team, and he had his.

Although he still felt that her team was his team. He missed Warrick and Nick quite a bit. They worked well together and as individuals, and he benefited from having them.

Part of him really wanted them all back together, like before. But the rational, logical part said that even considering that as a possibility was foolish, and not to waste time thinking about it. Thinking about it only caused pain.

And Sara was gone until next Thursday. More pain.

He would miss her, both professionally and personally, but he knew it was for the best.

He was unsure whether he would call her early next week or not. Perhaps she wouldn't feel comfortable around him. He was concerned about how they would interact the next time they met.

This afternoon, after she had calmed down, they had sat for a while, just letting time pass. She finally suggested they have something to eat, and she made them both egg salad sandwiches. While eating, he asked her if she liked to play cards.

"Poker!" she replied.

He had found the cards on her coffee table and played Solitaire while waiting for her to get over her stubborn funk and realize that he wasn't leaving. He must have played at least two rounds before she finally broke down and started talking.

He smiled again. He was pleased that he waited and that he stayed afterwards to play a harmless game.

It turned out she had those cheap red, white and blue plastic poker chips to go with the deck of cards. It was obvious she had played before, and she had taught him a few games he hadn't known. She had clearly enjoyed it when she beat him in a particular hand. It was a nice way to transition out of the seriousness of their conversation.

He had left when it was time for him to report to work, and she had been in relatively fair spirits. They had talked during their game about what her next steps were, and when he brought up counseling, she wasn't vehemently opposed. She realized that she needed to talk to someone who would be able to help her learn to deal with her past.

He turned the key to the Denali to check what time it was, and it was almost 6 a.m. Time to go home.

Sure enough, he looked outside and although it was still dark, he could tell that dawn was about a half-hour away. Had he been in his car that long?

He took out the key, got out of his SUV, and went back in to check on the end of the shift and to clock-out. He felt drained. The adrenaline rush from earlier in the day had disappeared, leaving a disconcerting feeling in its wake, and he could use a good meal, a good shower, and some sleep.


	3. Dreams vs Reality

**Warning: **This story is PG-13 for a reason. I don't think it needs to go higher but if it does, please someone let me know, andI will bump it up. Consider yourself warned.

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Nesting Dolls, Butterflied, Snakes, and I'll leave it up to you to guess the last one.

**A/N: **I wanted to post all three at once b/c IMHO, they fill in the gaps and allow me to start actually writing a story. This chapter brings us to when Sara will return to work. Next chapter, if you'd all want me to keep writing, is from Sara's POV, purely b/c she is going to interact with everyone and Grissom can't be around for all of that. All comments are appreciated.

_

* * *

__He was walking down the hallway to Sara's apartment. It was very dark; a light must be out in her hallway. He turned on his flashlight. He would tell her to have the superintendent fix it once he saw her. _

_He had to see her. He kept walking but he didn't see her door. He turned and noticed the footprints on the carpet. It was the wrong carpet. He had seen this before; this was Debbie Marlin's house. He looked down and sure enough, he had on booties. Why was he here? Where was Sara? _

_He walked to the end of the hallway to the bathroom, and the door was open. Debbie Marlin was there, again, laying in a pool of blood, the small butterfly tattoo clearly visible. He focused on the butterfly, noticing its wings move gently back and forth. It really was quite pretty and he thought for a moment to identify it. Wait, the butterfly is moving?_

_He had to get out of here. He knew this was not where Sara was. That was Debbie Marlin, not Sara. Sara was alive. He knew it. He had to find her._

_He turned and Sara was behind him. He jumped back, startled. Her hands were dripping blood, but the rest of her was spotless. She was dressed in white, but he had no idea what she was wearing. She was crying and mumbling something he couldn't understand. It sounded like she was saying she murdered a butterfly._

"_What happened Sara? Why are you here?" He went to reach for her, but she disappeared and he was in his office._

_Piles of paperwork were surrounding him, falling on him, almost smothering him, and he heard Sara's voice. He struggled over the paperwork and she was there in the office doorway, again in white and dripping blood from her hands. It was leaving drops all over the floor. A nightgown. She was wearing a child's nightgown. _

"_I'm sorry. I look for validation in inappropriate places. I have to go."_

"_No wait! Sara! Don't go."_

_He got up and chased her down the lab, following the drops of blood. She was always just turning a corner, out of his reach. It seemed like he followed her forever until finally, he was in her hallway again. It was still too dark._

_He saw her door. It was open so he went inside. It reeked of blood and Sara. She had to be here. He looked down and saw a trail of footprints in blood on the floor. They led to her bedroom. He looked up and he was overwhelmed by the sight. Blood spatter was everywhere. On the walls, on her sofa, on the books on the coffee table. This wasn't right. He stepped back and was against her door. It was closed. He went to reach for the handle but it wasn't there._

_Sara came walking out from her bedroom and into the living room, her hands almost glowing crimson. _

"_Sara, what happened? Where did all of this blood come from?"_

"_I lost my temper. I crossed the line… I was insubordinate..."_

_Sara stepped closer and he saw the knife in her hands. It was gleaming silver and flashed as she shifted it in her hands. He began to panic._

"_Sara… whose blood is this?"_

"_You were wrong Gil. There is a murder gene."_

"_Sara… WHOSE BLOOD IS THIS?"_

"_It's yours."_

_The world turned upside down and he saw himself lying on her floor. Deep stab wounds peppered his chest and abdomen, and there was mortal slash across his throat. He was gasping, dying, and Sara stood over him, glaring at him, blood running down her arms and clashing with the white of her gown and her pale skin. She raised the knife over her head... _

_He screamed. _

Gil woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, his pupils dilated, his breathing rapid.

A nightmare. He'd had a nightmare.

He squinted at the digital display on the alarm clock by his bed. 10:43 a.m. He hadn't gotten much sleep. He would need to take a sleeping pill in order to get some rest before work.

He sniffed, his nose was running. He hoped he wasn't coming down with a cold. He couldn't afford to take any time off of work the next two weeks, it was crucial that he be there for Sara.

He looked down at his pillow… and saw blood.

His mind hadn't forgotten the imagery of his dream, and he promptly freaked out, leaping out of his bed with a small "Aaah!"

He sniffed again and wiped his nose. _Gross_.

He looked at his hand, and it was covered in blood. Oh, bloody nose. He got those occasionally. That explained the metallic tang in the air.

Gil walked to the bathroom to clean himself up, his mind clearing and his pulse returning to normal.

Thursday had finally arrived. Sara returned to work tonight.

His dreams betrayed him; he was worried about her return. He knew he needed to tell her about his conversation with Ecklie, and he also had to "take disciplinary action". He had an idea, and if he was right, it would help both Sara and him.

But doubt still nagged him. She needed to be rational, calm and patient for this to work properly, and he wasn't sure how she was going to be tonight.

He hadn't spoken to her since he left her apartment. He was too afraid to call her. This didn't bode well for tonight since he would have to speak with her, face to face.

He opened up his medicine cabinet and took out the sleeping pills. The past week had been moderate with regards to new cases, and he had caught up on some of the paperwork overflowing his desk. He had a new appreciation for Sophia and Greg; they had worked hard to carry the load.

He swallowed two small pills and returned to his bed. He put the soiled pillow in his hamper; he'd take care of that later.

He grabbed the pillow from the other half of the bed, noticing how new it felt compared to his pillow, and tried to get some sleep. Eventually it overcame him, but it was a long time coming.


	4. Homecoming

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Nesting Dolls

**Assumption: **I am assuming that day shift is 7 a.m. – 4 p.m., swing is 4 p.m. – midnight, and our beloved night shift is midnight until 7 a.m. If anyone knows the true shift schedule, please provide it in a review and I will modify the timetable.

**A/N: **Thank You Reviewers! Let's get this party started, shall we?

* * *

Sara glared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, a look of grim determination on her face. It was Thursday. Finally. Patience was not one of Sara's virtues. She had spent the last 5 minutes analyzing herself in the mirror, making sure she would look presentable tonight, and what she saw was frustrating her. 

Her doppelganger's eyes blatantly betrayed her feelings of insecurity. She glared at herself some more, determined to chase her feelings away by sheer willpower alone.

She had spent her week off getting organized. All of her finances were in order. Everything in her apartment had been scrubbed clean, re-organized, or otherwise put in its place to create a sense of stability. She even went shopping, something she despised, and bought new clothes for work.

Her main concern was how the people in the lab would view her now. She didn't want them thinking she was some whiny bitch, or some air-headed emotional bimbo. She feared she had lost the status and respect she'd worked hard to achieve in the past four years. She didn't even want to think about Grissom's opinion of her now. She kept her focus on the office in general.

She would prove to everyone that she _was_ a professional, despite what had happened. It was her new goal, and she was serious about it. Her new clothes were a step in this direction.

Sara had found a counselor who specialized in post-traumatic issues related to violence and death. Her first appointment had been on Tuesday, and although Sara was hesitant to reveal anything significant, she had given Dr. Jennifer Velez a brief overview of her past. Dr. Velez was kind and quiet, non-presumptuous. Sara still wasn't comfortable around her, but she knew deep in her soul she had to learn to cope with her past in order to have any type of future.

Sara had considered resigning and returning to San Francisco, to pursue a different career and start over. But after imagining what was required: leaving Vegas, moving to California, and working from the bottom up, all over again – well – that idea went right out the window. She did mention it as a possibility to Dr. Velez, and she seemed very against it.

Dr. Velez's only suggestion was that she do two things – find one activity outside of work that was purely for her, and find another activity outside of work that would provide her an outlet for her empathy. Sara must have looked puzzled, so Dr. Velez said pointedly, "Take a fun class at the college, something you'd love to do but don't know how, and go volunteer somewhere."

Sara wasn't surprised by the first suggestion; Dr. Velez was associated with Western Las Vegas University. Her office was right off campus. She probably referred a lot of her clients there. Sara smirked to herself as she was leaving, thinking, "We all have our agendas, don't we?"

But she followed the doctor's advice, and went to the university to see what adult education programs they offered. The booklet she'd been handed was sitting on her coffee table, open to the beginning of the listing of available classes. One in particular had caught her eye right off the bat, and she had this light bulb-style idea; she could merge her two activities into one. But she hadn't committed to anything yet. She planned on sharing her idea with Dr. Velez next Tuesday.

She looked at the small flowered clock on her bathroom wall, it was almost 11 o'clock. She'd better hurry – she wanted to get to work early enough to give herself time to prepare herself. Scenarios of Catherine and Ecklie were at the forefront of her thoughts, she kept imagining conversations in her head of how to be respectful and professional towards them, but not act like a roll-over wimpy kiss-ass. She also wondered about Nick and Warrick, if they would treat her differently. And Brass might be different to her as well; he would shelter her and be all fatherly. She didn't need that. She wasn't worried about Greg, she had finally returned his calls, and he was so glad to hear from her, she could almost see him jumping for joy at the other end of the phone. She tried very hard to not think about Grissom at all.

She gave herself one more look in the mirror. She looked like she was going to court, only in more comfortable clothes. She imagined it as a professional, rugged kind of style. She did have to crawl around on floors and on the ground and dig through God-Knows-What as part of her job. So her pants were from an outdoor-camping store, made of some special wonder material that didn't rip, repelled dirt, and "breathed"; and her blouse was scoop-necked, light and feminine. She wouldn't say she looked pretty, she never thought she was all that attractive, but she looked good for her.

She took a deep breath, walked over to the kitchen, picked up her car keys and her "dinner", and walked out the door. She was ready.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Gil woke around 9 p.m. and went through his regular time-to-go-to-work routine. He kept his mind clear of doubts, thinking only of what he needed to do at that particular moment.

His plan was to speak with Sara after he handed out work assignments. He would assign her and Greg together, and Sophia would either be on her own, or with him. He wasn't ready to work a case with Sara just yet, and he was sure she would prefer to be with her friend.

He would explain to Sara the way things would be for the next six weeks. He would be firm and authoritative, but compassionate and open. She would in turn be receptive and understanding. All would be well.

Yeah, right. He had no idea how he was going to do this.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sara opened her locker to retrieve her vest, noting that her locker deserved a New Sara Overhaul as well, when Greg came bounding into the locker room.

"You're here! Hi! How are you? We have to meet in the common room for assignments in five minutes. Wow, you look hot. Wait, I mean… nice… um…"

"Greg…" Sara grinned. "Knock it off. I've missed you. It's good to be back."

"You didn't miss much. We had a robbery and then we had nothing and then there was a homicide and it was really nasty. I had to go to the scene and there was this dog, and he had crapped all over the dead guy's house, and it stank, and .."

"Is that Miss Sara Sidle I heard?" Nick poked his head around the doorway, interrupting Greg. Nick's voice took on his distinctive sensitive tone, as he asked quietly, "How ya doing?"

"Hi Nick. I'm good."

Nick eyes were bright. He gave her a look asking _"Are you sure?"_ and Sara returned it with one stating _"Yeah, it'll be all right."_

Greg was sure he was missing something, but before he could open his mouth to speak, Nick said, "I've got to get back to work. I'm glad I caught you before shift started. You take care." His eyes said, _"If you need anything at all, come find me and I'll be there for you."_

Sara smiled back at him, _"Thanks."_

Nick hadn't judged her. He cared about her and their unspoken way of communicating still stood firm. His eyes had been warm and gentle. Even though she couldn't see herself with him in a sexual way, she knew her feelings for him ran deep. This was a positive. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be so bad.

Greg interrupted her with, "Let's go get some coffee before assignments, okay?"

"Sure, let's go."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Grissom sat at the head of the common room table. To his left sat Greg and then Sara. Both were quietly sipping coffee. To his right was Sophia, reading through what looked to be trace or ballistics results. She was mumbling to herself.

He had already been sitting at the table when Sara walked in, and he noticed her change in style. She looked very self-assured and he could tell she was trying to present herself as a responsible, competent individual. He couldn't help but be proud of her. She had such stubborn fire in her; it was as if she dared anyone to say she had been out of line.

Time to get to work.

"Sara and Greg, I need you to look into a report of a car theft at the Lincolnside Auto Dealership. This isn't a typical theft, the owner is claiming someone stole 20 vehicles off his lot."

They both nodded and smiled at one another. Grissom knew the dealership specialized in high-end vehicles, and Greg was picking up on Sara's morbid fascination with taking apart other people's very nice and expensive cars.

"Sophia, you need to continue with our homicide, correct?"

Sophia looked up from her paperwork. "Yes. I need to analyze these reports, get some trace results from that lab girl, and I should have a report to you by the end of tonight."

"Good. Anyone need anything from me before we dismiss?"

Nobody spoke. They rarely did. But it never hurt to ask.

"Fine. You're dismissed."

Now things were going to get tricky. As everyone stood up to leave, Grissom stated, "Sara, I need to speak with you in my office for a moment."

Sara paused. Her face remained calm, as if asking her this was a normal occurrence, but Grissom could feel the waves of embarrassment, defiance and fear emanating from her. They flooded him with regret. But he knew of no other way to handle this.

He walked past her, noting Greg's look of concern, and Sophia's complete oblivion that anything serious was going on, and walked to his office. He heard Sara's soft footsteps behind him. His mind echoed Lewis Carroll:

"_The time has come…. to talk of many things."_


	5. Open Communication

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Nesting Dolls, Burden of Proof

**A/N: **Okay this was harder to write than I thought, and longer than I thought it would be. So Chapter 6 is getting posted with it, as they go together and need to be read at the same time. This is too big of a deal to leave as a cliffhanger.

* * *

Grissom walked slowly to his office, keeping his head high, radiating an aura of superiority and authority. He heard Sara's soft footsteps behind him and was sure she was thinking the worst. 

"Please close the door behind you, Sara", he said as he walked behind his desk.

Sara did as requested and sat in the office chair opposite Grissom's desk. He met her gaze as he had many times, walls up, supervisor mode in full swing, and he could see she was mentally preparing herself, trying to keep her emotions under control.

Grissom did not sit down. He went behind his desk and removed his coat from the back of his chair. He put it on, and then walked over to his field kit and retrieved it.

"Please stand, Sara, " Grissom requested in his authoritative tone.

Sara stood, obeying the command quickly, her face blank.

"Please follow me, Sara."

Grissom walked past her, sensing her confusion and enjoying it. He opened the door, and started down the hallway towards the locker room. It took Sara about 3 seconds to follow; clearly he had knocked her off guard.

He stopped in front of the locker room, leaning against the outside wall by the doorway. "Please get your coat and your kit, Sara."

She walked by him, giving him the hairy eyeball, not quite smiling yet, but her defiant fire from earlier had cooled.

Sara opened her locker and grabbed her coat and her field kit. Standing at her locker, she turned and faced Grissom with a "_Now what?_" expression on her face.

"Please follow me, Sara."

Grissom turned quickly from the doorway of the locker room and began walking away. He heard the speed in Sara's footsteps as she quickly ran to catch up with him, putting on her coat in the process. He walked to the back doors which led to the parking lot. He went through them, not bothering to hold the door for her. He heard the door hit her hands as it was closing, and heard her disgusted sniff as she opened the door for herself.

He walked straight to his SUV and unlocked it. He opened the passenger side door, walked to the driver's side door, and opened it as well. He turned to look at Sara, noting she was standing outside the passenger door, clearly puzzled and perhaps a tad annoyed. He could sense that her feelings of humiliation and fear were gone, but the flicker of defiance still remained. Ah well, two out of three.

"Please get in the car, Sara."

Sara broke her silence. With a hint of a challenge, she asked, "Grissom, what is going on?"

Grissom repeated sternly, "Sara. Get in the car."

"All right," she said with a slightly whiny tone.

Sara climbed into the SUV and shut the door.

Grissom got in, putting his field kit behind his seat, turned the key, and drove out of the lot.

Sara broke the silence. "Where are we going?"

"We'll know when we get there, won't we?" Grissom replied, not meeting her gaze.

He heard her sigh, and out of the corner of his eye, saw that she had resigned herself to her fate. She was looking out the passenger side window, resting her head in her right hand, watching the buildings pass by.

They drove in silence until Grissom turned into an empty parking lot. They had arrived at a small park off the Strip.

There was a pond here, with a lighted and paved walking trail that circled around the pond. An older-style gazebo, complete with peeling white paint, signaled the start of the trail. Scattered throughout the park were wooden benches allowing people to sit and watch the small fountain in the middle of the pond. A rusting black and white sign posted next to the gazebo simply stated "No Littering."

Grissom got out of the SUV, leaving his kit in the car.

"Time to get out, Sara."

"Grissom, what's going on? Is there a crime scene here?"

"Do you see one?"

"Well, no."

"Then I guess there isn't one."

Sara got out and followed Grissom as he began walking towards the gazebo. He walked past it and began following the trail around the lake. Sara kept pace two steps behind him.

They walked in silence for a while. Other than the soft white noise of night, and the gentle gurgle of the fountain, the only sounds were of their footsteps.

Grissom smiled to himself. This was a favorite respite of his, and he had a particular bench that he liked to call his own. This bench was their destination.

When they arrived, Grissom sat and motioned for Sara to do the same. They both sat facing the lake, neither speaking to the other.

_Okay, I got her here. Now comes the hard part._

Grissom took a deep breath and began what he knew would be one of the most difficult conversations of his life.

"Sara. I brought you out here because I need to speak with you someplace where we can talk freely, where there are no implied boundaries or potential interruptions."

"I need to make you aware of what happened while you were… away. I need for you to listen to what I have to say, without interruption, until I've finished. Can you do that?" He turned to face her.

Sara was looking at him curiously, the night softening the features of her face. Her eyes were deep and warm. He dropped the supervisory walls and met her gaze with a heated one of his own.

"Uhm … yes?"

Grissom turned and looked out at the lake. What he had to tell her next would hurt her, and he knew he wouldn't make it through if he maintained eye contact.

"After I left… you… last Friday, I went to my office and found a memo from Ecklie, demanding me to provide documentation of my disciplinary action for you. When I went to his office, he and Catherine were both waiting for me."

"I told him outright that I was not firing you. Catherine then asked what action I was going to take, and I told her I had already taken it."

"Neither Ecklie nor Catherine were pleased by this. I told him that you were a great criminalist, and that I needed you."

Grissom noticed her shift her weight slightly on the bench, reacting to what he said, and the implications it contained.

"Ecklie then proceeded to say that you were a loose cannon with a gun, and that you were my responsibility."

Sara stiffened and he felt her defiant fire burn anew.

"Catherine came to my office afterwards and … we exchanged words. She disagrees with my decision to keep you on my staff. I have not spoken to her since."

"I needed to tell you this because you need to be aware of what happened, and what it represents. Ecklie is very manipulative and cunning, and Catherine has chosen to side with him. I am concerned about what their ultimate goals are, and who they are willing to step on in order to achieve them."

"I want you to be extremely careful at work. This all happened because Ecklie manipulated you as a way to get to me. He saw your outburst with Catherine as an opportunity to take advantage of you. If he was not there, everything would have blown over in time. He deliberately approached you at a time when you were clearly upset, stirring you up until he had enough justification to suspend you. He will do this again if given the opportunity."

He paused, hoping she realized how serious he was.

"Now, I must file some type of disciplinary action against you. It needs to be severe enough to appease Ecklie so I cannot be accused of favoritism. But since I disagree with the idea of imposing any discipline upon you at all, I've come up with an action that I believe you can live with."

He turned to face her, to see how she was handling this new information. Her eyes were raw with pain and humiliation. Her mind was returning to last Friday, and he needed to continue quickly before she lost control.

"Starting tonight, and until further notice, I want you working with either Greg or me. No solo cases, no Sophia. You will not be loaned to the swing shift, either."

"Each night after shift, you are to report to me for one half-hour to discuss the events of your day, which I will document and report to Ecklie. This half-hour, you will not be paid. This will continue for six weeks, allowing me to prove to Ecklie that there is no reason for your dismissal."

"So. What are your feelings on this?"

He turned to her, watching the war of emotions within her, sensing them as if they were tangible. He waited patiently to see which one would win.


	6. Inferno

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Nesting Dolls, Burden of Proof, Playing With Fire, Butterflied, dude – pick any GSR episode you want.

**A/N: **Well, Chapter 5 was interesting, wasn't it? The park I described is not in Las Vegas. It is in southern New Jersey – and I used to go there many times when I was a teenager. How the park magically transported itself to the outskirts of Vegas is anyone's guess, but I'm glad Grissom likes it as well.

* * *

Sara couldn't believe what she was hearing, nor that she was hearing it from Grissom. Her mind raced frantically, trying to absorb all that he had said.

His comment about needing her drove itself deep into her heart. _So now he needs me. Whereas three years ago, the lab needed me._

Ecklie must know something. Has he looked at my file? _What if I am dangerous… a loose cannon. _

And Catherine? What was with her? Clearly her new role as supervisor had made her forget any sense of loyalty that she had to Grissom. _This must hurt him. She was his friend long before I even knew him._

Clearly Grissom suspects trouble at work. He thinks Ecklie is after him, and he's probably right. _It's like a war between them. No wonder Grissom didn't react to the split. He knew it was coming._

Words from a year ago suddenly echoed in her head. "… _we have a big decision to make … we have to risk everything we've worked for in order to have her." _

"_I couldn't do it."_

"But you did," Sara said, breaking the silence and focusing herself on the present. She turned and stared deep into his eyes, but all she saw was confusion.

"What?"

She faced him; her eyes and her mind were crystal clear with sharp realization.

"You risked your job for me."

He turned away and spoke quietly, folding his hands in his lap. "Yes, I did."

"Why?"

"Because I had to."

"Again, why?"

Grissom's posture shifted, clearly uncomfortable with her direct questioning.

But Sara wasn't going to let up on him. Not by a long shot.

"Sara … "

"Dammit Grissom! I am so _done_ with this game of yours! You yank me around, flirt with me, act like you care, and when push comes to shove, you pull this wishy-washy 'I Don't Know What To Do About This' shit with me! I can't take it anymore. I'm telling you now; I can not take it any more."

Grissom's voice was quiet, filled with remorse. "It isn't a game, Sara."

"Well then what is 'it'?"

"It's something I don't know how to handle."

"Oh that's rich."

"You don't understand."

"Oh yeah? Well I'll give you something to understand. I came here because of you, because I wanted to be with _you._ It was wrong, and it didn't work. So I wanted to leave, and you sent me a _plant_ and for some asinine reason, I stayed. And I had hope."

Sara was on a role, all the pent-up frustration from four years of uncertainty erupting out of her like wildfire.

"Then the lab exploded, you were right there and I thought 'AHA! He does care.' So I asked you to dinner. Dinner! You freaked out and said 'No' and left me with egg splattered all over my face, feeling like a complete fool."

"So I back off, and we get a case where the damn vic looks _just like me_ and you freak out and turn into some possessed CSI maniac. And I heard you talking to that perp, by the way, that loser who killed that girl. I heard you say that you couldn't give up your work for me. And I wanted to scream and run into that room and rip into your ass. Because you should have _told me._ But I didn't. I drank myself into a stupor instead. How brilliant is that?"

"When you came and picked me up at the station that night, and brought me home, I almost died from embarrassment. So I went away for a while. And I should have stayed away. But no, stupid me, I come back."

"And we don't talk, you avoid me, and I when I tell you that my counseling is done, because I _have to tell you_, and I tell you why I came here, in attempts to show you that I'm moving on… what do you say? 'DUH'"

"Finally I get suspended, it's been long overdue, and you come over to my apartment, demand to know my innermost secrets, get them and disappear."

"Until I come into work today, where you promptly drag me out into the middle of nowhere so we can _talk_. And again, here we are, at the same point in this _game_ where I'm doing all the talking and you are doing nothing!"

Sara had reached her peak, her voice loud and echoing across the lake. She was standing now, hovering near him, her anger and frustration so intense and she was shaking and tears of rage streamed down her face.

"Is it nice up there on your high horse, Sara?" Grissom's voice was filled with bitter sarcasm and he looked up at her, eyes cold as flint.

Sara stood up straight, stepping back, her voice dripping venom. "Excuse me?"

"You, Miss Sidle, do NOT understand. You think this is all about two normal people, who can have a normal relationship, just like everyone else."

"Has it not occurred to you that I am your supervisor?"

"Has it not occurred to you that I am fifteen years older than you?"

"Has it not occurred to you that there might have been something else going on in my life when you asked me out?"

Grissom's voice was growing louder, the anger building up within him, burning through his restraints on his temper.

"Has it not_ occurred _to you that I do not want to be your next little boy toy, for you to discard when I become to old or unappealing?"

"Has it not _occurred_ to you that I may not be what you really want, since clearly you 'look for validation in' .. oh, what was it .. '_inappropriate places_' and you are attracted to '_emotionally unavailable_ men'?"

Grissom was up, standing next to her, eyes blazing with fury.

"Has it not _occurred_ to you _AT ALL_ that I am not what is best for you?"

The remainder of Sara's self-control shattered.

"_YOU BASTARD! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TO SAY WHAT IS BEST FOR ME"_

_"**I DON'T BELONG TO YOU**!"_

They were inches apart, raw emotions flickering between them, burning, mixing, feeding upon themselves, ultimately incinerating all their defenses, leaving only a baseline of desire in its wake.

Grissom's eyes shifted from flint to molten steel, and he reached for Sara, pulling her against him with one arm, his hand firm on the small of her back. The heat of his touch surprised her. His other hand reached up for her, his fingers brushing against her face, his palm caressing her cheek as he reached behind her neck, through her hair, moving her face to his.

Sara's resolve evaporated at Grissom's touch on her skin. Her mind lost in unrequited desire, her world spinning around her, she leaned against him as he pulled her closer.

Eye to eye they faced one another, fire to fire, soul to soul. Four years worth of restraint melted away as he bent down to her and kissed her.


	7. Logic and Reason Prevail

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Nesting Dolls, etc.

**A/N: **OK - I wanted to report a tragedy and why there has been a 3 day delay in the updating of this fic. On Thursday night, at 9:56 p.m. EST, my heart shattered into a million pieces, injuring my muse during the explosion. She has been recovering for the past 3 days, and she now feels we are ready to continue. We both apologize for the delay, and we thank YTDAW and those here that are writing post-Unbearable fics. They have helped my muse recover. I, personally, am inconsolable.

Also, thank you very much for the reviews. I love you, reviewers!

* * *

Sara recovered first. 

"Griss… Grissom. Wait."

She pushed gently against his chest, backing away from him to stare into his eyes. They shone with a blue fire she had only seen a flicker of before. Seeing it now, at full intensity, ate away at her resolve. She almost submitted when he bent to kiss her again, but she stepped back slowly instead.

"Grissom, " she said again, more firmly.

He blinked and she could see the fire fade. Confusion, awkwardness and the typical male frustration replaced it. He stepped back and sighed.

"I see."

"No, wait. Okay, look, we both know that was probably _long_ overdue. But now is not the time or place to … pursue that. It wouldn't be right and you know it. Why don't we just… sit for a bit, okay?"

Sara gestured to the bench behind them. She never expected that she'd be putting the brakes on Grissom, but then again, she never really expected to be in that situation with Grissom, and now that it had occurred, she wasn't really sure what to do about it. Sure, she dreamed about it, but dreams and reality are two different things, and reality was screaming through her brain, loud and clear. She sat down, her legs feeling rather wobbly.

_I just made out with my supervisor. I just made out with GRISSOM. Oh God, now what?_

Grissom sat down, defensive walls returning, ardor cooling. He wasn't looking at her. Sara became a little annoyed.

_What does he expect? We cross the line and I'm going to just spread my legs for him? _

"I'm sorry," Grissom said quietly.

"No, wait. It isn't like that. God… Grissom, you know how I feel about you, okay? Let's not go there. Let's just sit here, and … regroup for a second. We are supposed to be at work, you know."

A sudden thought hit Sara like a freight train.

"Greg! He's back at the lab! He's probably going nuts looking for me and for you. Crap. Now everyone is going to know we left and put two and two together and get God-Knows-What."

"No they aren't. I handled it."

"What do you mean… you handled it?"

"I told Greg before shift that I would be speaking with you and that it might take some time. He was to keep himself occupied until I would call him with further instructions."

"Always one step ahead of me, aren't you?"

Sara smiled at him and reached out to touch his hand. She gave it a soft squeeze and he raised his head to look at her.

She had never seen him look more awkward, and a wave of guilt splashed over her. _He probably isn't used to this. God knows the last time he's been with a woman._

She decided to take control. She'd done it before, she could do it again.

"So. Let's talk about my 'disciplinary action'. You say you want me to come and report to you for a half-hour after each shift. Without pay. What about you? Are you getting paid OT for that?"

"No."

"Okay. And no solo or Sophia. I suppose those are acceptable terms for me."

"Well I am glad you concur." There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

_Boy he doesn't like it when he doesn't get his way, does he?_

Sara was sure once her head stopped spinning and her heart stopped pounding, she would think about this again and wonder whether it really had happened. And what it meant. She would analyze it for hours. But for right now, her primary thought was to get them out of here, and back to work, and away from one another.

And she knew how to make it happen.

"Look. We should probably discuss _this_ later, because right now, I really don't know what to think. I'm sure you probably agree. And we need to get back to the lab."

Grissom shifted away from her, his eyes cool. He was uncomfortable yes, but he was also a little annoyed.

_Oh yeah, he isn't liking this. Too bad._

"If that's what you want, Sara."

"Yes, it is."

Sara felt a familiar feeling of disappointment with herself, wondering if she ruined something before it began. But something deep inside told her that it wasn't right this way, that it wasn't the right time. _God, what a time to go all moralistic. _

They walked back to the Denali in silence.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Grissom called Greg's cell when they returned to the car.

"Greg, I want you to leave to go to the Lincolnside Auto Dealership now. Sara will be meeting you there."

"Okay, boss. Hey, where are you?"

"Not with you. Now get to the scene."

"Okay, bye."

Grissom hung up his cellphone and placed it in the front dash cup holder. He needed to return to his senses. His mind was reeling out of control, and his body was on fire, some parts much more than others. He tried to think of unrelated things, like bugs and plants and paperwork.

He glanced over at Sara, sitting in the passenger seat, looking out the passenger window like before. The fire he'd felt before returned, engulfing him.

_She's beautiful. I have to have her._

Thoughts of ravishing her in the Denali exploded into his brain. He grimaced with frustration. This was not good. Perhaps she was wise to stop them when she did.

But boy, did it sting at his pride. He didn't know what he expected, but once he started kissing her, he did _not_ want to stop. Logic prevailed.

_What do you think? You're going to just have her, right there in the park? That's illegal, pal._

His grimace deepened. This was why it was a bad idea to cross this line. Logic, logic, logic. Now what happened? Did she expect something from him? What did he expect from her? Images bombarded his brain, images of Sara in his arms, in his bed, in his apartment smiling at him as he made her coffee.

Jesus. He shook his head slightly, his rational side trying to maintain control.

It was a long drive to the auto dealership.


	8. Establishing a Baseline

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Nesting Dolls, etc.

**A/N: **I need to move this story into Unbearable, so I'm posting multiple chapters to bring us there. The "dinner" (EW!) plot device actually works for the storyline, as this _is_ an angst piece. I had originally had another plan, but when TPTB hand me lemons, I'm making lemonade.

* * *

Sara and Greg drove in silence back to the lab. They were both tired. No matter how long they both had worked the nightshift, their bodies still knew that being awake all night long was somehow wrong. 

Grissom had dropped her off at least six hours ago, and she and Greg had processed the scene, finding little evidence other than a severed Master padlock and chain from the back gate, a few prints, and the tire tracks for each of the missing cars. They had all been driven out of the rear gate, and the anticipated footprints of the perps had been overridden by the tracks from the tires.

The perps were sneaky, too. They had deliberately driven over any prints that were visible in dusty spots on the asphalt.

The owner was gracious enough to meet with them around 4 a.m.; he was clearly concerned about the loss of the cars, and when things would finish so that he could process his insurance claim. He claimed that he didn't mind coming in so early; he normally arrived around 6 a.m.

Sara was a little suspicious during her conversation with Mr. James LeMeau, and she intended to examine the padlock closely, as well as the prints. She wondered if Mr. LeMeau was playing an insurance scam.

Greg interrupted her silent mental replay of her conversation with Mr. LeMeau.

"So, where'd you and Grissom go?"

Eeek. She should have known Greg would ask this.

"Grissom wanted to talk to me outside of the lab. He had to discipline me."

_Oops, that came out wrong._

Greg didn't miss it, either. "WHAT?"

"Disciplinary action, Greg. He has to file disciplinary action against me for what happened."

"Oh. For a minute there, I thought…"

"Don't go there." Sara warned.

"Hey you know, you gotta give a guy credit for trying. You left yourself wide open with that one."

Sara reached over with her left hand and smacked him on his spiky-haired head.

"You're lucky I think you are cute, or else I'd really smack you around."

"So you're really into this 'disciplinary thing', huh? A guy might learn to enjoy that."

"GREG!"

He laughed as they pulled into the parking lot behind the lab. Greg dropped off Sara at the back door.

"I'm heading home," he said. "Shift's over. I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Have a good night, Greg."

"Unless of course, you wanna come over and we could work on that discipline thing…. I've got rulers at home, you know."

"Good-BYE, Greg."

Shift was over. Time to go face Grissom.

Sara opened the back door and followed the same route she took at the beginning of the shift, only this time, she was alone. She was sure this conversation was going to be awkward, and her heart started to pound faster in her chest.

_Deep breaths. No big deal. Just talk. Be normal._

HA! Her conversations with Grissom could never be considered normal.

She stood at his open doorway, and he looked up at her, sensing she was there.

"Shift is over, Grissom. I'm here to discuss … my day, I guess."

"Come in. Close the door behind you and have a seat."

Sara did as he requested, and looked at him while he rummaged through paperwork on his desk.

_He looks different now. His face is softer, more open. His lips part a little when he's thinking. And his hands pick up the paper rather gently. But if I look at him directly, he looks exactly the same. _

He looked up at her, and she saw that he was back in his supervisor/employee mode.

"This is how I figured we would work this. You and I will meet after your shift. We can discuss any relevant information regarding cases, if we need to, or else we can just sit here and I can catch up on my paperwork."

"I need to have you in this office for one half-hour each day. My reports to Ecklie will be written to indicate that you are handling your cases professionally, and that you are giving the impression of a competent and sound CSI."

Sara's eyes narrowed.

Grissom smiled gently at her and said, "I know. But it is only for six weeks. Will it kill you that much to keep me company?"

Sara's annoyance melted. She couldn't help but smile back at him.

"I think I can manage. Paperwork, huh? Would you like any help?"

Grissom sighed and smiled at her. "I thought you'd never ask."


	9. Unbearable Betrayal

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Unbearable. (barf)

**A/N: **Here we go. You have no idea how painful it was to watch the clips for this over and over again to get the direct dialogue. Of course, I had to twist Grissom's mind a little to have it fit into my plot.

But I'm sure his sarcasm in the end of the first Sophia/Grissom conversation is due to Sara changing, or Sara forcing him to change. And many have said that they feel that the "dinner" was political. When I wrote it, it could very easily fit that way. However, I am not optimistic, and plan on finishing this fic before TPTB damage GSR again.

Reviews are appreciated as always, but I know this is awful for any GSR fan. I apologize, and when it's all over, we can have some lemonade. Spiked lemonade. And we'll smash lots of useless utensils with rocks.

_

* * *

I am a genius._

Grissom looked as his office, his desk clean, papers organized. The piles of bureaucracy from a month ago were gone. In its place was order and harmony.

_I am so brilliant, I amaze myself. I have killed two birds with one stone._

Sara had helped him tremendously. And they had enjoyed each other's company. At least he assumed so. He had enjoyed hers.

The first few evenings were awkward, as they felt around for a common ground. This wasn't a big surprise, it wasn't every day that he made out with Sara in the park.

After shift-meeting number three, he confronted her about it.

"Sara, do you want to… talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" she asked quietly.

Grissom knew she was playing stupid. She knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Oh, I don't know. About the fact that I had my tongue halfway down your throat and my hand up your shirt a few days ago."

Sara gaped at him.

_I can be blunt too, sweetie._

"All right," she said. "We can talk about it. What would you like to say?"

"I'd like to say that I enjoyed it, and would like to do it again."

Sara's jaw was on the floor.

"Grissom! We're at work!"

"So? The door is closed."

Sara's panicked expression morphed into one more coy.

"Okay, loverboy. How do you think you are going to manage that?"

"Well, I'd like to use this time for us to … well, I guess it's … hang out."

_How do you say 'I'd like to spend time getting to know you' without sounding like a total dorfwad?_

"And if after your six weeks, you would like to continue to spend time with me, we could arrange that as well."

"I see," Sara said with a half-smile on your face. "So that's why you thought up this 'punishment'. You wanted to spend time with me."

Grissom's face flushed a bit.

"Well, yeah. I thought it would be a good idea. Kill two birds with one stone."

"Are you sure it's not, 'Have your cake and eat it too?' Sounds to me like you want to get to know me without leaving the lab, sort of a 'no-strings-attached' thing."

_Am I that obvious? _

"Is that so wrong?"

Sara smilled at him, a real, genuine smile. "I suppose not."

From then on, she was more comfortable around him. Somehow he had done the right thing, but they hadn't _done_ anything, and he had no idea what he had done to make her smile.

And she smiled at him a lot more now. He enjoyed it tremendously.

Although all they did was talk each night after shift. And do paperwork. He felt it was good for her to learn about supervisory chores, so she'd know what was involved when she took on the role later in her career.

He remembered her frowning at all the red tape and meaningless forms.

"This is really a waste."

"I know. Do you see why I get frustrated sometimes when there are delays or mistakes? Each mistake that's made costs me hours of paperwork. And each time we gather evidence, I need to log that so we replace our stores and don't run out."

"I had no idea. This is insane. I'll let Greg know and we'll be better about stuff like this."

"You don't need to change the way you work for me, Sara."

"Don't flatter yourself," she smiled back at him. "I'm going to do it for the good of lab."

The smug expression on her face was priceless, and Grissom chuckled at her. Sara preened and said, "You can put that in your report. That I'm supporting efficient work practices at the office."

They laughed quietly and returned to the paperwork.

_I am such a genius._

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

There were three days left in Sara's six week "discipline". Sara would miss spending time with Grissom each day, but he had said that they could "continue" spending time together outside of work. Right? She replayed his words in her mind.

Sara wondered how he felt they would do that, considering that they worked together. Ecklie would have a field day, and Sara wasn't sure what the policies were on inter-office dating. She had always wondered, but never had checked, since Grissom had made it quite clear that he "couldn't do it".

Now with the possibility that he "might do it," Sara was afraid to check. Relationships might be forbidden, and she didn't want Grissom to lose his job. She knew how important it was to him.

Greg came running up to her, "Hey guess what? There's a bear in the morgue!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Really! It's dead and all, but there is a bear in the morgue! And Grissom wanted me to tell you to meet him in his office. A new case came up. Some missing woman or something."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Grissom was processing a young womans's body with Sophia. They had found their missing wife.

He extracted a hair with the skin tag attached. Sometimes the science of his job fascinated him.

"A person's entire identity, balled up in a few nanograms of matter," he said aloud.

Sophia responded. "So you mean one's identity can be wholly quantified by our DNA," she stated as she closed the cap of the DNA swab.

"Well, genetically it can, " Grissom replied. "We're completely programmed as soon as the sperm hits the egg."

"So we're defined, at a cellular level."

"More or less." Grissom looked back at the body to continue searching for evidence.

Sophia stood and looked away from him, her tone superior. "No. Identity is the totality of all life experiences."

Grissom shot her a look as she continued, "And our brain's neurons process our relationship to the world and each other."

Sophia took a picture of the woman's legs, an all-knowing expression on her face.

Grissom shrugged, "I stand corrected. DNA is _what_ we are, not _who_ we are."

Sophia rolled her eyes to the ceiling, as if recalling something.

"What we are never changes; who we are never stops changing."

Grissom smirked, his tone mildly sarcastic. "Yeah, whether we like it or not."

Grissom was thinking of Sara, and how she had changed him these past weeks. Now that the walls between them had broken down, he was finding it difficult to repair them. Many times when Sara was in his office, his mind wandered into dangerous territory, and he fought to keep his emotions under control.

He was frustrated by his inability to ignore her affect on him. Before he could tune her out, like she wasn't there. His boundaries protected him. Now, although they were back, they were not as strong as before.

Later that evening, Sophia surprised him by stopping by his office. He was studying his collection, and was expecting Sara shortly.

"You got a minute?" Sophia asked.

"Sure. You did a nice job on the case."

She and Sara both had, and he wanted Sophia to know it. This was part of his "Be A Better Supervisor" plan. He was full of plans, lately. _I'm so clever._

Of course, if he had been a decent supervisor in the first place, the whole situation with Sara's suspension would have never happened. Then again, he wouldn't have gotten to kiss her, either. Hmm.

"I.. uh.. " Sophia cleared her throat. "I just wanted to you know that, I've enjoyed working with you."

_Oh? What's this about?_

"Well, I've enjoyed working with you as well." Grissom said politely.

Sophia coughed lightly.

"Well, it's time I made a change. I don't like the direction the lab is headed."

Grissom paused and removed his glasses. _Is this about me? Wait, does she mean Ecklie?_

"You mean Ecklie?" he asked.

He chided her, "You can't pay any attention to him."

"Eh, you've got a good team, but I was a supervisor. My demotion was undeserved. And every day I'm here, I'm reminded of that."

Sophia's tone was mildly tinged with anger, a first for her. Normally she had a calm, superior tone. She was not an emotional woman. A thought came to Grissom.

_Perhaps this could work to my advantage. She knows a lot about Ecklie, and she's upset with him. An opportunity has presented itself._

"What?" Sophia asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Grissom turned from her, studying his bugs, echoing her words from earlier this evening, "Well, someone once said that what we are never changes, but who we are never stops changing."

He turned to face her, noticing she was smiling at him. _Gotcha._

"Let's have dinner, shall we?" He gestured to her and she smiled again.

They left his office and walked together to his car.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sara was walking down the hallway towards Grissom's office. Shift was over and they had booked the stepmother and her boy-toy for murdering a young woman. Sara wondered how the little boy would manage without a mother. _He was absolutely adorable._ _Sometimes I wonder if I could be a parent._

Sara had retrieved her stuff from her locker about ten minutes ago, but something made her stall a while longer before she went to visit Grissom.

She knew she was a little irritated with him. Her mind replayed Grissom and Sophia talking earlier in the shift, with Sophia leaning near him and flirting with him. Jealousy flared again at the thought of Sophia laying a hand on Grissom. And Greg's comment about how Sophia was "fitting in" just made her want to hurl.

Greg should know her well enough by now to know that Sophia was no friend of Sara's. Sara was sure she had eyes for Grissom, and she didn't like it at all. And Sophia was just so tacky sometimes. How wrong was it to make fun of Greg's apartment, like everyone was there? What was that supposed to mean, that he's desperate or something?

Sara's temper began to rise as she grew defensive of her friend. She was glad Grissom hadn't sent the two of them out together to do a crime scene recently.

_She's so blah sometimes. And other times she acts like such a know-it-all. And her voice, there's something off with that too. It's like she changes dialects or something. There just this vibe of untrustworthiness around her too. Like she's up to something._

_Most likely she's up to figuring out a way to get into Grissom's pants. Whore._

As she got to Grissom's doorway, and peered inside, she was surprised to see he wasn't there. She walked away slowly, towards the DNA lab, wondering if he was checking on something there.

She saw Hodges, and as much as she despised him, she knew he was nosy.

"Have you seen Grissom recently?"

Hodges sneered at her, a little too much for her liking, like he knew something important.

"Why, yes. I have. He just left with Sophia. I believe they were going to… dinner? I overheard him asking her out while I was walking by. I think… no… I'm sure… he was holding her hand when they left."

Hodges thought to himself, _"Okay, so that last past wasn't true, but hey, it could have happened. I know she's got a think for the BugMan."_

"They looked quite familiar with one another. Do you know how long they've been dating? I mean, you're friendlier with him than I am, and all."

Sara's face turned pale as her heart plummeted to the bottom of her soul and shattered into a million pieces.

She turned from Hodges and fled the lab, running to her car.

_HOW COULD HE DO THIS? HOW COULD HE?_


	10. Observations

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Unbearable. (spew)

**A/N: **Okay, so it is time to get moving here. Time to bring in some other folks and move this story along. So now, without further ado, I give you…. Chapter 10.

* * *

Warrick knew something had gone down, something big, but he wasn't sure what it was. 

Sophia had given notice two weeks ago. Tonight was her last night, and she was only coming in to clear out her stuff, so Warrick was working her cases now.

Catherine had come to him and asked if he'd like to work some additional overtime to cover for the loss of Sophia. He agreed, and although he wasn't quite pulling double shifts, it was close, and he was anticipating some serious dough.

Warrick was thrilled to earn the extra money. No one knew, but Warrick wanted to buy a house. Everything was getting tucked away for a downpayment. So the long hours didn't bother him, he was working towards a goal.

He had started the OT last week, first working with Sophia to transition all of her cases, and now, finally, on his own.

At first, he didn't notice anything different.

Sara was cranky, Grissom was withdrawn, and Greg was Sara's puppy dog. This was the same old song, replaying over and over again.

Yet, the melody had changed slightly, and Warrick couldn't quite put his finger on why.

He pondered this while comparing fibers under a microscope. Nick interrupted his thoughts.

"Yo! So how's it going? Exhausted yet?"

"Nah, man. I'm all right." Warrick looked up from the scope.

"I think your nuts, working all this OT," Nick chided him.

"It's cool. I could use the extra dough."

Warrick studied Nick, knowing how he and Sara were friends. Maybe he knew what was going on.

"Hey, you talk to Sara recently?"

Nick replied rather solemnly, "No. I know something's botherin' her again, but she won't talk to me about it. Says it is nothing. Not to worry."

"I think something went down between her and Grissom again."

"Well, that's nothing new."

"I know, it's like a broken record with them. But something is off this time. It's different."

Warrick had a great view of both hallways from where he was sitting, and he noticed Sara walking towards Grissom, papers in her hand, and pointed her out to Nick.

"Here. Watch this."

They both tried to be nonchalant as they watched the scene unfold.

Sara approached Grissom, her back straight, her attitude professional and confident.

Grissom noticed her and paused, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Sara's mouth moved as she handed the papers to Grissom.

He replied to her, and although they couldn't hear either of them, it was clear Grissom was being his supervisory self.

Sara nodded and turned away from him, walking back to wherever it was she came from, still maintaining her professional air.

Grissom's eyes watched her leave, his shoulders slumped a little, and he turned and walked slowly in the opposite direction.

Nick turned to Warrick with a bored expression on his face.

"Ok, man. That was fascinating and all, but, like, nothing happened. You need to stop the people watching and get yourself a woman. You are _way_ too nosy."

Warrick sighed, "Yeah, yeah, I know. But something isn't right. I think it's with Grissom. He's .. distracted. And sometimes, I get this feeling like he lost something."

"When isn't he distracted? The guy is _weird_. Maybe his pet spider died. No loss there."

"Hey. I happen to like Grissom, okay? And I've worked with him for a while. Something is definitely off with him."

Nick looked away, thinking, and recalled what he'd seen a few weeks back. He hadn't thought much about it, other than it was odd.

"You know, I saw Grissom a few weeks back and he was weirder than usual."

Warrick was curious. "What'dya see?"

"Okay, this is going to sound _really_ strange, but I was leaving shift and I saw Grissom coming into work. It was late, and night shift had started about 2 hours earlier. I was late leaving b/c I had to finish up on something, and I thought it was odd that Grissom was just coming in. I mean, he _lives_ here."

"Anyways, I was walking to my car, and Grissom walked by me… didn't say anything… nothing new… but, he seemed, like… frustrated."

"So? Maybe something happened with his car."

"No, I mean… _frustrated._ You know… _guy frustrated_."

Warrick stared at Nick. "You've gotta be kidding."

"No, I swear, and that's why it was so weird, because, I mean… Grissom? And I was thinking, 'No Way', but I've seen that look a million times before at the frat house, guys coming back, not getting what they expected… and I'm telling ya, that was how he looked."

"You don't think that he and Sophia…."

The whole lab knew about Grissom and Sophia's "romantic dinner", courtesy of Loud Mouth Hodges, but nobody could figure out whether the two were dating or not. Or why Sophia had resigned.

"See, I don't know. She wasn't there. It was just him."

Nick thought for a moment, remembering the evening.

"Actually, I know it couldn't have been her. She was here in the lab. I remember because she was mouthing off to Mia, your 'pretty pretty' lab tech." Nick's voice turned all sugary, taunting his friend.

"Knock it off, man."

Realization dawned, and Warrick frowned as the pieces of the puzzle started to fit into place.

"Aw shit, do you think its Sara?"

Nick echoed the frown, "I hope not."

Nick's voice turned hostile as he continued, "If Grissom crossed that line with Sara, and then chickened out and went for Sophia instead, that would be _very_ uncool."

Nick didn't like the idea of Sara and Grissom together. Not that he wanted Sara for himself, but she was his friend and he knew how Sara felt about Grissom. She deserved better, and he'd tried to tell her so on numerous occasions. How she should get out, have fun, get a life outside of the lab. _Meet a nice guy. Go out on dates. Get over BugMan. Please!_

Warrick and Nick shot each other the same look, one of realization.

Warrick vocalized it first.

"I think it went down that way. I'll bet they did something and then Grissom chickened out, going for Sophia instead. Maybe he expected Sara to put out or something, and she said 'No'. God knows Sophia will _do_ anything that has the right equipment. And then Sophia dumps him and quits, and now he has neither of them."

"Damn him! What a bastard! I'm glad you got stuck working with him and not me. I'll take Catherine over him any day."

"Gee, thanks. Such love."

Warrick laughed, but Nick was still angry.

"Hey," Warrick said, noticing Nick wasn't laughing with him. "Don't do anything rash here, okay? Sara can handle herself."

"I know, I know," Nick replied. "It's just that… she doesn't need this. And everyone _knows_ how she feels, including him, and it isn't right. It just isn't right."

"You can't control other people's lives, you know. Sara will be okay. You saw her, she's holding up fine. She's actually been on the more rational side since she got suspended. Probably doesn't want to lose her job."

Nick nodded agreement, and gestured that he was going to leave.

"I'll catch you later, okay?"

"Nothing, rash, remember?"

Nick sneered, his tone falsetto, as he replied "Yes, mommy. I'll behave."

Warrick laughed. "Get outta here."

Nick thought to himself, _I might not say anything now, but I swear, if Grissom and I are alone in a dark alley one day, we're going to have a nice, long conversation. A really nice, long one. Between his face and my fist._

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, the following section is part of this story, I had always intended it, but is in no way related to the general plotline, so you can skip it right now and I'll have Chapter 11 up soon. It was never meant to be this involved, but this is what happens when TPTB yank my chain and force me to drink spiked lemonade.

* * *

Sophia walked to her locker, for the last time, checking to make sure that she had everything. 

She opened it and was surprised to find a white box, about the size of a brick, sitting on one of the shelves.

She took it and sat down on the bench behind her.

The box was wrapped in a sturdy white paper, a small white card taped to the top.

Sophia opened the card and read the text within.

"_FARE THEE WELL, PLOT DEVICE"_

The text was written in large black print, and there was no signature.

Sophia's face became panicked, wondering who had caught on to her secret.

Only a few were supposed to know that she was a plot device, most were supposed to think she was Grissom's newest love interest.

She looked around the locker room, but no one was there. The hallways were silent as well.

Suspicion prominent on her face, she unwrapped the box. She was surprised by what she saw.

The white paper covered a beautiful golden box, similar to one that would contain a necklace, only this box was deeper, meant to fit something larger. It gleamed in the dim light, almost asking for someone to say "Ooooh…. pretty…."

Sophia said, "Ooooh…. pretty…."

She carefully opened the lid to the box, and inside, lying on a beautiful backing of red velvet, was a plastic spoon-like utensil, a black silk bow tied at its thinnest point, near the beginning of the spoon.

Sophia thought, "I've seen these before. These are…."

Sophia couldn't remember what these utensils were called.

A voice, not her own, echoed into her head. "It's called a spork, you dope. It is a useless utensil. Just like you."

Sophia shook her head, not believing what was happening to her.

The voice continued, "Time to leave, Spork."

And Sophia found herself suddenly spinning in a swirling kaleidoscope of color, as she felt a large _something_ pick her by the back of her blouse, like one would pick up a puppy.

When the world stopped spinning, Sophia found herself on a beach. The golden box, complete with spork, was still in her hand. There was a warm, calm breeze, and the air smelled of sand and the sea.

_Well, this isn't so bad._

"Yo." A voice from behind her made Sophia start, and she turned to face a group of young people, most looking ragged and dirty. They were looking at her rather nastily.

"Who are you?" Sophia asked.

"We're the newest cast for Survivor," one of the men spoke to her.

"We're going to be left on this island with absolutely nothing. The Powers That Be on CBS think that would be a fun way to make the Survivor television show more interesting."

Another, a woman, said, "Yeah, and we aren't really happy about it. We aren't pleased with The Powers That Be and CBS. We aren't into plot devices."

From the back of the group, another woman, much younger, spoke up.

"Hey! I know you! You're that Sophia on CSI! You're a Plot Device!"

Murmurs ran through the crowd, and their tone grew much more hostile. They began approaching her.

Sophia's eyes grew wide with fear, as the crowd closed in around her.

"So whaddaya think?" the original man asked, "Should we roast her over a fire, or serve her up raw, like sushi?"

**

* * *

Disclaimer #2 regarding the above:** Clearly the Survivor television show is copywritten and the property of CBS, and CBS is the property of itself or some other major television conglomerate.Neither Survivor, nor CBS belong to me, and it probably isn't very mature of me to yank their chain, even fictionally. However, they yanked mine and turnabout is fair play in my world. 


	11. Realization

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Unbearable (gag)

**A/N: **I think we've all had enough lemonade. However, I can't guarantee I won't make some digs here and there. I feel strongly about the following scene between Dr. Velez and Sara. It was one of the first scenes that my muse played in my head, and it spelled itself out last night, enabling me to write it today. I hope you enjoy – and I love all my reviewers!

* * *

Sara was sitting in Dr. Velez's office, knowing quite well what Dr. Velez's first question would be.

Dr. Velez didn't disappoint, asking, "Have you found something to do as an outlet yet?"

Sara frowned, somewhat sheepishly, and said, "No…"

Three months ago, when Sara shared her idea to take a course at the university to learn a new language, Dr. Velez had agreed it was a good idea. Sara had figured she could then work at various charities or shelters that needed someone that was bilingual. Dr. Velez agreed to that as well, but felt that Sara needed to find something else to do in the meantime, something to serve as an outlet for her empathy.

Sara had heard the words "outlet for your empathy" so many times now; she was beginning to wonder if she was a lamp.

As for Dr. Velez herself, Sara had warmed up to her rather quickly. It took a few sessions, but she found that having someone unbiased to talk to really helped. She wound up spilling out all sorts of details about her past, and Dr. Velez was there to provide the support Sara needed. Somehow they had crossed the strict doctor-patient conversation line into one that was more casual. Sara was pleased that she had chosen this particular psychologist.

Dr. Velez's voice became stern, forcing Sara to focus on her.

"Sara, I want you to explain some things to me."

"Okay."

"Let's review. You work at a crime lab, where you examine either dead or seriously injured people, as well as the places where the crimes occurred, looking for clues."

"Evidence, yes."

"And you love this work."

Sara's face shown with pride as she said, "Yes, I do."

"Can you tell me why?"

"Because I get to solve the puzzle. Help the vic. Put the perp behind bars."

"But sometimes, doesn't this 'perp'… doesn't he or she go free? Irregardless of what happened to the victim?"

"Yeah, sometimes that happens."

Sara remembered many cases where there just wasn't enough evidence to convict, however she _knew_ their suspect had committed the crime. It upset her, the injustice of it all.

"I'm wondering how you feel that you have helped your victim in these cases where the suspect goes free."

Sara's voice grew tense. "It's so frustrating. I've gotten upset about it a few times. I _know_ the guy did it, I just can't _prove _it."

"Has it ever occurred to you that your job doesn't provide you with the ability to help the victims at all?"

"What do you mean?"

Sara grew defensive, but Dr. Velez kept her voice calm while she spoke.

"Sara, you see your victims _after_ the crime has happened, not before. You cannot prevent what happened to them after the fact. It is completely out of your control. You can help their families, their friends, by providing closure, and you most certainly can ensure that justice is served, but you aren't protecting the victims themselves."

Sara's face was puzzled as she mulled over Dr. Velez's words. _Of course I help the victims! I bring the people who hurt them to justice!_

"Sara, your needs are split. I feel this is who you are, and you shouldn't try to change it. However, you should consider what I have to say. I'll try to word this so that you can relate."

"Think of your personality as a circle, or a pie, or even better, a scale."

"Half of your personality derives satisfaction from using your mind. Solving the puzzle, uncovering the evidence. This is your logical side, your analytical side."

"But the other half of your personality, your emotional side, wants to help, to heal. To protect others. I'm sure if you think about it, you react emotionally in some way to every case you have. You identify with the victim, and for those victims whose histories are similar to yours, the feeling is stronger. And your control over your emotions when dealing with these victims is going to be much, much less. You've already shown a history of that."

Sara nodded, following what Dr. Velez was saying, but unsure where she was going.

"My point in why you need to find an outlet for your empathy is that you are only getting half of your needs fulfilled by your current job, the analytical half. And unfortunately, your emotional half is constantly getting squashed by the nature of your business. The scale is unbalanced, heavily in favor of the analytical side."

"When you repress your emotional side, upsetting the balance, it is much easier for you to lose control, particularly when your empathy for your victims is strong. You cannot repress your emotions; they need to have a place to go. Your job directly prohibits you from expressing this part of yourself."

Sara's voice grew pensive. "Do you mean I should quit my job?"

"Not at all," Dr. Velez replied. "But your job only fulfills half of what you need. This is why you need _another outlet._"

"But," Sara rationalized, "Having empathy towards my victims helps me do my job better. It helps me stay focused. I feel that they deserve the best I have to offer."

"Sara, this isn't about them. This is about you. You shouldn't have to sacrifice yourself to try to help others who are… well, beyond help by the time they make it to you. It's a fruitless effort."

Sara shook her head, disagreeing.

"I don't know."

"Why don't you think on it for a while," Dr. Velez stated calmly. "Nothing needs to change. You said last week that you were feeling better about your job, are things still going well?"

"Yeah, for the most part…" And Sara went on to discuss her week, the back of her mind disconnected, analyzing Dr. Velez's words.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Three nights later, Sara was still focused on her session with Dr. Velez. On Tuesday night, Sara began looking into old case files, examining photos of those victims that were "personal" to her. She had to sneak peeks at them; the lab was very busy, and she knew it wasn't right to go poking into old case files. But BE's and all the other fluff cases on her plate were so incredibly _boring_, and the need to prove Dr. Velez wrong was driving her forward.

She didn't have any recent files, because Grissom absolutely refused to give her a domestic abuse or rape case. He handed those to Warrick or did them himself. Sara wasn't impressed by that either, but her desire to avoid any conversation with Grissom kept her from speaking her mind.

Each time she saw a photo of a bruise or a cut, or saw her notes documenting the scene or the body, her heart cried out with familiar pain. But as she looked at them longer, she realized that Dr. Velez might have been right. _I couldn't stop what happened to them._

Something was shifting in Sara's perception, but she didn't notice it. All she felt was a need to examine the victims, the photos, anything, to prove to herself that she was helping others in her job.

At the "assignment meeting" in the common room, Grissom sent Sara off with Greg, again to work a fluff case, some two-bit homicide down in the ghetto. Warrick was assigned the case of a woman found beaten to death behind a strip mall.

Sara rarely talked in these meetings, but when Grissom recited his traditional "Any questions" line, Sara spoke up.

"The woman, in Warrick's case, is she in the morgue?"

Grissom's eyes narrowed at her. "She isn't your case, Sara."

_Okay, so that means she is in the morgue. Otherwise he would have said 'No'._

"I was just curious."

Both Greg and Warrick looked at her questioningly, both with '_Why the hell do you care?'_ expressions on their faces.

Grissom's gaze was stony. Ever since Sophia resigned, Grissom's calm demeanor had slowly broken down into one of bitterness and resentment.

Grissom had tried to talk to Sara a couple of times, but she was having none of it. They never finished their last three "sessions", and Sara didn't really care. As far as she was concerned, he had shown to her and the entire lab which CSI he preferred.

Eventually, Grissom gave up and left her alone, interacting with her only professionally. He was quiet and reserved for a while, but lately he was growing ill-tempered and sullen. Everyone at the lab noticed it, and it was assumed Grissom was finally cracking under the strain of the job. Sara and Greg suspected that he was cranky because Sophia dumped him soon after she left the lab. _Long-distance relationships do NOT work._

Sara left the common room, making her way towards her locker, and Greg followed.

"Greg, I need to check on something for a bit," Sara said casually to him. "Will you hang out for about fifteen minutes or so?"

"You're going to look at that woman in the lab," Greg eyed her warily. "Why?"

"I just want to see something."

"Okay," Greg shrugged. "I don't know when you went all morbid on me, but hey, whatever floats your boat."

"Don't tell anyone where I am – I won't be there long."

"Be careful," Greg called quietly as Sara walked towards the morgue. "You don't want Grissom to catch you."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sara stared at the young woman lying on the cold metal slab in the morgue. Tears filled her eyes, as the familiar pain of seeing abuse first hand slashed across her soul.

"I'm sorry," Sara said quietly, lightly touching a deep bruise on the woman's cheek. This woman had been beaten severely, and it looked like cause of death was strangulation.

Al Robbins walked into the morgue from his office in the back, lowering his glasses to peer at Sara.

"Well, hello."

Sara lifted her eyes and stared at the older man.

"I couldn't help her."

"You could help her by finding her killer," Al replied, pushing his glasses to their proper position with his index finger.

"Yes, but that doesn't take away what happened to her."

"No, it doesn't."

"I couldn't prevent it."

"No, you couldn't."

Sara stared at Al, and then looked at the woman's body again. She saw the small cuts, the bruises, the indentations where the perp's fingernails had cut into the woman's throat. She saw all the analytical details, the evidence, the steps the woman's body would go through playing quietly in her mind.

_She will be processed, all evidence sent to the lab. Then she will get her autopsy, and if needed, they will run more tests on what they find. And once they feel they have all the evidence they need, she will be returned her family._

She stared at the deep bruise on the woman's cheek again, noticing the pattern of the broken blood vessels, touching her again to trace the outline of the wound. Her mind started its familiar routine of analysis of evidence. _She was hit by an object. A human fist did not make this bruise._

She stepped back, looking at the woman again, and the shift in her perception that started three days ago clicked into place.

_Dr. Velez was right. As much as I hate to admit it, she was right. I cannot help this woman. I can only process her. I can't help any of them here. I can only process them. I need to help them beforehand, so that they don't wind up here._

Sara felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders, freeing her of her self-imposed responsibility to help her victims. She knew now why Dr. Velez wanted her to volunteer. _That's where I can help._

Sara's mind was clear, like a thick veil had been removed. Sara had assumed that entering into criminal justice would help her protect others, so that they wouldn't have to suffer through what she had. _"Serve and Protect"_, right? But when she entered into criminalistics, the science of it fascinating her, she hadn't realized that criminalists did not protect. They only served.

She became almost giddy with the realization, and Doc Robbins was watching the emotional scenes play across her face.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

"I am," Sara replied, smiling. "I really am."

Delight in her newfound realization screeched to a halt as she heard the morgue door slam against the wall. The force behind its movement was standing in the doorway, and was very, very angry.

Grissom had caught her.

"Sara. I will see you in my office. _NOW._"


	12. Complete Misunderstanding

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Unbearable (it's just ew… okay?)

**A/N: **I just wanted to share with you that I truly enjoy writing from Grissom's point of view. His thoughts just come very easily to me. And to let you know, it's Chapter 12 already and this story still has a ways to go. So if y'all continue reading, and reviewing, I'll continue writing.

* * *

Grissom hadn't slept well in weeks. His clever idea to use Sophia as an ally had backfired tremendously. _I just don't do well with people._

Sophia had assumed that Grissom was asking her out on a date… a romantic date. That was not his intent at all. And at their "dinner", when he tried to be sly and ask her about Ecklie, and her resignation, she had taken his hand and began rubbing her thumb against the inside of his palm.

"Well, I might consider hanging around a little longer, if I had good reason…" Sophia purred, leaning towards him.

Grissom, true to character, stared dumbly at her in complete shock, and it was a good five seconds before he gently removed her hand from his own.

"Uh… I… think you misunderstand…" Grissom stammered.

"Excuse me?" Sophia's sex-kitten voice took on a much less attractive adult-cat screech.

"I hadn't intended for this… to be like that. I just wanted to talk."

Sophia had then played the drama queen card, throwing her drink directly into his face. While he had wiped himself off, sputtering, she had left the restaurant. The remaining patrons looked at him like he was a monster, and Grissom had almost died of embarrassment.

The two weeks until Sophia left were awful. She knew word had gotten out about their dinner, and when she spoke to him, she acted as if they were involved. Using words like "honey" and "dear". She did it deliberately to make Grissom uncomfortable. Grissom said nothing, utterly humiliated by the whole ordeal. He was very relieved when Sophia was finally gone.

And Sara. In his eagerness to form a new alliance, he had alienated her. He didn't even leave her a note. He had just disappeared that night, and he knew the next day that she had found out about the dinner.

He didn't blame her for being upset, it was callous and disrespectful to forget her, and he was extremely sorry. He tried numerous times to approach her, talk to her, call her, apologize, but she wouldn't acknowledge him.

Eventually he gave up and resigned himself to returning to his hermit-like ways.

Yet, returning to his idea of normalcy was proving very difficult to do. Memories of a night many weeks ago, with Sara in his arms, and his whole body aflame with desire, had continued to haunt him, particularly in his dreams. He was not used to dealing with such… tension in himself.

_I am not a young teenager with raging hormones! This is ridiculous. What is wrong with me?_

He began sleeping less, staying awake purely to exhaust himself, so that when he slept, he would not dream. But sometimes, the demons broke through, and taunted him with twisted images of Sara. Sexual thoughts combined with Ecklie's premonition of a "loose cannon" intermingled, leaving him frightened and aroused at the same time.

The current theme of late was that Sara would come to him willingly, in various scenarios, and then proceed to draw her gun and shoot him dead between the eyes. He had a clear after-image of looking directly down the barrel of her gun each time his system shocked him awake.

_I need to talk with her. This is getting out of hand._

But as each night passed, he never could get up enough nerve to corner her and speak with her about what had happened. And as the days passed, he grew more and more distraught.

Tonight he had seen the look in her eyes when she had asked about Warrick's vic. He knew she was up to something, but had no idea what.

He didn't want Sara near that woman. Her injuries weren't the worst, but they weren't pretty either. He felt it was best if she was kept a safe distance away from the abuse cases.

He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, until he saw Greg wandering over to talk with Mia. _Damn her. _

He knew Sara had gone to see that woman, and his hunch proved true when he saw her standing there, crying over the woman's lifeless body.

"Sara. I will see you in my office. _NOW._"

He turned and walked briskly to his office. Sara arrived shortly afterwards. He didn't bother to tell her to close the door, so she didn't. He would regret this later.

"Sara, I specifically told you that the assault case was Warrick's."

"I know, but…" Sara's voice was hyper. He could clearly see she was excited about something.

"What ever possessed you to go in there?"

"I wanted to see her. I wanted to see… if I could help her."

"Sara," Grissom's voice was stern as he tried to control his temper. This woman exasperated him. _She's trying to help a dead woman?_

"You can't help her. She's dead."

Sara's voice was high as she spoke. "Yes, I _know._ But you see, I didn't know, so that's why I had to go and see, and you're right and now I know!"

Grissom tried to follow her, but clearly, she had lost him.

"What?"

"I _can't help her_, Grissom. I _can't help any of them_!"

Sara's voice was growing louder, her gestures more flamboyant, and Grissom's demons began echoing into his head… _loose cannon… out of control…_ He began to grow concerned.

Sara must have noticed his face, and she stopped abruptly and looked at him.

"What?"

"I… was… just wondering if you were okay."

Her demeanor slipped away from flamboyance to one he was much more familiar with, icy defiance.

"You think I'm nuts."

"No… "

"You do." Sara growled. "Typical. Completely typical. On the one day of my life that I actually get a clue, and figure everything out, you have to go and ruin it for me."

Grissom's face said it all, but he vocalized it as well.

"Huh?"

Sara began pacing and gesturing at him.

"Grissom, for years now, I thought I was helping these people. The victims, my victims. But I'm not. I'm not helping them and I _can't_ help them. Don't you see? That's why the cases bother me. I want to help them, and I _can't_!"

Grissom stared at her, unsure of what to say.

Sara misread his silence.

"You know, I don't know why I'm even telling you this. It isn't like you care. You've made that quite clear." Her tone grew icier with each word.

Grissom snapped out of his trance, his frustration about his inability to communicate with her on this very issue coming to the forefront.

"You never gave me a chance to explain!"

"Explain what?"

Grissom didn't respond. _How do I tell her that it was all a huge misunderstanding?_

Sara wasn't patient, and before Grissom could even begin to formulate words, her voice broke the silence.

"Ex-actly. You will never change, Grissom. And I'm done even thinking about you anymore. Do you hear me? Done. Game Over."

Grissom met her eyes and she had never looked more distant to him than she did now. _It's ended. I can never have her._

He looked away, afraid that she would see the emotion welling up in his eyes.

When he looked up again, she was gone.

In her place stood Conrad Ecklie.


	13. Evil Snakes and Good Decisions

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Unbearable

**A/N: **Just a quick warning that you might want to grab a bucket for the following Ecklie/Grissom conversation. Ecklie is … _ewwww_.

* * *

"Boy, Gil, you really do have a thing for fishing off the company pier, don't you?" 

Ecklie's sneer was full of contempt. "First I thought it was you and Catherine, but she assured me that is not the case. Then, I was positive it was Spitfire Sidle, but the rumor mill claimed your latest trophy to be our recently departed Curtis."

"I don't blame you on that one." Ecklie clicked his tongue and leered at Grissom. "She was quite… enjoyable."

"But now I see that I was right after all. Sidle." Ecklie's grin was lecherous.

"Although, it sounds like she's had enough of your charms." Ecklie turned his head in Sara's direction, clearly observing her 'finer points'.

"Tell me… is she as much of a wildcat in the sack as she is here at the office?"

Ecklie's head turned back to face Grissom, and to his surprise, he found Grissom scant inches from his face, a violent storm brewing in Grissom's eyes.

Grissom was livid. Rarely did he let Ecklie's jibes break down the strongholds of his temper, but after his recent conversation with Sara, and his past few weeks of constant unease, the walls were weak. Rage soared through him as he stood and went towards Ecklie. Only maturity and common sense kept Grissom from flattening Ecklie against a wall and pummeling him into a pulp.

"_DROP IT, CONRAD. NOW."_

Ecklie took a couple steps back, panic racing across his face. He attempted to regain some of his composure by adjusting his tie, as he stammered, "I actually didn't come by to discuss your sex life. A new Level 2 CSI will be arriving in two months as part of a rotation program. He's from the Santa Clara County DA Crime Lab and he will be working for Catherine for six weeks. He may choose to stay permanently, and if he does, I will switch him to your team and move Warrick back with Catherine. He specifically requested to work with you, however I feel it is best that he go with Catherine's team."

Grissom heard half of Ecklie's words; the blood was still pounding in his ears.

"So, this affects me… how?"

"I just wanted to let you know. I'll be sending you a memo with his resume and credentials."

"You do that. Good-bye, Conrad."

Ecklie slinked away, leaving Grissom to deal with his chaotic emotions in peace.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

The day after Sara had her 'revelation' in the lab, she contacted Dr. Velez, sharing with her all that had happened. She then asked if Dr. Velez had any suggestions of what she might do. Places where she might be useful. Sara was driven. _I have to help._

Dr. Velez referred her to a battered women's shelter that was three blocks from Sara's apartment complex. Sara got the address and drove there without calling ahead, requesting to speak with the head of the shelter immediately. She knew she must have frightened the frail receptionist with her ardent enthusiasm. After fifteen minutes of impatiently thumbing through women's magazines in a makeshift waiting area, a woman approached her and requested they speak in her office. The woman introduced herself as Ms. Ellen.

Sara was immediately impressed by the woman's distinguished grace and poise. Ms. Ellen's eyes indicated she was no innocent to the horrors of abuse; such scars are clearly visible to those who've shared them.

Sara explained to her that she would like to volunteer. She presented herself in a pseudo-sales pitch, stating how she worked for the crime lab and how she had received plenty of training in self-defense. She briefly mentioned that she had come from a home where her mother murdered her father, and how this would help her relate to the women at the shelter. Pain was evident in Sara's voice, but she spoke through it.

Ms. Ellen eyed her carefully for a moment.

"Miss Sidle, if you volunteer here, you realize that you will be interacting with women, women who are frightened and have had awful things happen to them. You will need to be strong for them, support them. It is acceptable to sympathize with their situation, but you cannot turn any sessions you have with them into a group pity party. Do you feel that you can handle this?"

"Yes, I do." Sara's voice was confident and determined.

"You will need to attend training sessions to learn our policies and proper techniques for interacting with our clients. You may begin tomorrow night if you'd like. We run training constantly here, on Tuesday and Thursday nights, and again on Saturday afternoons. Once you have completed the first round of training, we will meet again and discuss our options. Is this acceptable?"

"Yes. Thank you." Sara replied. The urge to say "Yes ma'am" was overwhelming but Sara suspected Ms. Ellen wouldn't be too impressed with that.

"We'll speak again soon. Thank you, Miss Sidle, for offering your services to us."

"No, Ms. Ellen, thank _you._"

Sara left the shelter feeling more excited about her life than she had in years.


	14. A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Unbearable

**A/N: **Finally! I think things will be getting interesting now. I'm trying to wrap this fic up by Thursday evening, since I have no faith in TPTB. I may not make it, but I'm going to try. So expect some more chapters very soon. Reviews are wonderful. I love reviewers. You all make my day and make me want to write more.

* * *

Two months had passed since Sara started volunteering at the women's shelter. Her evenings before work were full, between training at the shelter, and her class at the university. She had to cut back on her overtime hours immensely; her life outside work was more important to her now.

However, she found her job had become easier for her. The pain was still there in almost all of her cases, but she could disconnect herself and work through it. Her solve rate was excellent.

Sara was happy, she figured, for her. It was a new emotion for her, so she wasn't really sure how she felt. She only knew she felt better than before.

That was until she read today's newspaper.

There was an article on the front page of the "Local" section, highlighting the shelter, and their upcoming publicity event. Sara had helped organize the event, and there was a medium-sized picture of her, Ms. Ellen and the two other event volunteers standing outside the small brick building, smiling into the setting sun.

When the reporter had stopped by to interview them late last week, Sara had thought nothing of it. But now she realized that her flapping jaw might have gotten her into trouble, as she was mentioned throughout in the article. How she worked for the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and that she had recruited a few members of the lab and the police department to participate in the event.

She had kept her volunteer work quiet. Only Greg knew how she spent her time outside work. The thought of the entire lab knowing what she was doing was humiliating. _What will they think of me? Will they assume I've been abused too? I don't need them prying into my personal life._

She was also quite sure that Ecklie was not going to care for the unanticipated publicity for the lab. She did not want another confrontation with him. He couldn't make her give up volunteering, could he?

As for Grissom, she had no idea what he would think. Not like she cared… much.

She left for work early, unable to shake the feeling of apprehension that clung to her.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Greg had just arrived for shift, brimming with excitement. Rumor had it that a new CSI was arriving tonight to work with Nick on the swing shift. Greg was hoping for a young, pretty, single blonde.

He prayed they wouldn't get called out to a scene. He wanted to hang around the lab and get the scoop on the new recruit. Most likely the new CSI hadn't shown up at the lab yet – Greg remembered spending most of his first night filling out paperwork and getting a physical from a very unfriendly nurse.

Greg had brought in the "Local" section of today's newspaper. He couldn't wait to razz Sara because she was on the front page. Although, in all seriousness, he was super proud of her, and thought she looked fabulous in her picture. The young woman to the left of her was pretty hot, too, and Greg was going to ask what her status was.

He was the first to arrive in the locker room, and as he was hanging his coat up, Sara walked in.

He sensed her uncertainly and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Did you see today's paper?"

"Yeah!" Greg waved his copy in the air. "I think you look great! Who's the hot chick standing next to you on the left? Is she single?"

"Greg!" Sara reached for the paper, but Greg snatched it away from her.

"What? You don't want everyone to see how great you look?"

"No... it's not that… I don't want the lab to know about it…I might get in trouble…"

"Know about what?" Nick and Warrick both poked their heads into the locker room.

Sara looked mortified, and Greg calmed down a bit. He handed the newspaper to Warrick.

"Sara's in the paper, but she wants to keep it quiet."

Both Nick and Warrick read the small article beneath her photo, Nick reading around Warrick's shoulder.

Nick finished first and looked up at her with pride and newfound understanding. He smiled. _So this is what you've been up to._

_Yeah._ Sara dropped her head, cheeks flushed, embarrassed by all the attention.

Warrick spoke quietly, "Sara, you really did this? Organized this event?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. This is great. Good for you!" Warrick beamed at her.

"I agree," Nick echoed. "I think this is fabulous." He walked over to her and enveloped her in a huge embrace, whispering in her ear, "I'm proud of you."

"Wait," Warrick said, "If he gets a hug, I want a hug."

"Aw, c'mon!" Greg interjected, feeling left out. "It's my newspaper! And if this is going to turn into some big mushy sapfest, I get to hug her first!"

"What's this about a newspaper?" Grissom demanded, interrupted them.

Greg watched the stances of his friends change instantly. Warrick immediately turned to face Grissom, as did Nick, both taking defensive stances in front of Sara. Nick was closest to Sara, practically blocking her from Grissom's view, and Greg didn't miss Nick's glare at Grissom either. Sara immediately turned and stood facing her locker, head down, clearly embarrassed.

_They're protecting her from him._

"It's nothing, Griss," Warrick said. "Greg's just playing around."

Greg shot Warrick a dark look, but played along. "Yeah, it's just something I wrote that got published in the newspaper. It's… a personal ad."

Nick shot Greg a complimentary look, and continued with the ruse. "Yeah, we were just razzing him about it."

"May I see the newspaper?" Grissom's tone was authoritative. It wasn't a question.

Warrick had the paper folded over in his hand, so that the picture of Sara was hidden.

"It really isn't a big deal," Warrick stated firmly.

"If it is my CSI's newspaper, which does _not_ belong at the office," Grissom intoned, shooting Greg a nasty look which Greg promptly returned, "then it is a big deal to me."

"The newspaper, please, Warrick."

Warrick rolled the newspaper up tightly, and practically smacked Grissom's chest with it.

"Here ya go, _boss_. Nick? You coming?" Warrick's tone was mildly defiant as he walked into the hallway.

"Yup, there's no need to hang around _here_ anymore." Nick's tone was filled with much more animosity. He turned to Sara and shot her a look of compassion. _If you need me…_

Sara smiled weakly at him. _I'll come find you._

Nick stormed by Grissom, not looking at him, and he and Warrick disappeared from Greg's view.

Greg didn't want Sara around while Grissom read her article. So he walked over to her, again blocking her from Grissom's view.

"Hey, Sara! I need a big favor. I was going to ask one of the guys but since they're busy, would you help me get something from my car?"

"Sure," Sara said quietly.

Greg touched her shoulder to get her to follow him. He shuffled her past Grissom, who was standing in the doorway looking somewhat confused and mostly angry. This was typical of Grissom as of late, so Greg completely ignored him.

"It'll be all right," he said quietly to her as they walked down the hallway together. "You did a nice thing, there's nothing wrong with that, and it'll be all right. If anything, you made the lab look good."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Grissom walked back to his office and unrolled the newspaper. _What was the big deal with this? _

Grissom felt lost. His team seemed to have re-solidified, but without including him. _They were protecting her from me. I saw it. And they didn't want me to see this. Why? _

Three seconds after he looked at the paper, Grissom knew the answers.

Underneath the photograph of Sara and three other women, were the words "Criminalist And Local Shelter Team Up To Host All Day Women's Safety Event"

Grissom read the small article, describing how a Miss Sara Sidle was volunteering her time at the battered woman's shelter off Desert Hill Road. How she and two other women had organized the event under the supervision of a Ms. Ellen. _Strange name._

It explained how Sara worked at the Las Vegas Crime Lab as a criminalist for the night shift, and that she had recruited some people from the lab and the police department to participate in the event.

The article went on to describe the activities: various seminars relating to women's safety, domestic abuse, and rape; a presentation by a local all-women shooting club regarding firearm safety; and two installments of an hour long self-defense class. The event was going to be held at the shelter on Saturday.

_This is where she has been. Why she isn't working overtime anymore. She has been doing this._

And suddenly Sara's strange conversation in his office from two months ago made sense.

_That's what she meant. That's why the cases bother her. She thought she was helping them, but she wasn't. _

Grissom felt a pang of sadness at Sara's confusion in her role as a criminalist.

_I have no idea why she thought we would help people – we see them on the worst day of their lives. _

_But… she figured that out. That's why she wanted to see that DB in the morgue. She was proving to herself that she couldn't help her. And now, she's volunteering at a battered woman's shelter, because she can help there. _

Grissom's heart filled with a new emotion – pride. He was almost overcome with it.

_I have to speak with her about this. Tonight. I'm going to tell her about Sophia, and how it was a misunderstanding. I'll tell her how proud I am of her. _

Doubt echoed in the back of his mind. "_What if she won't listen?"_

As Grissom stood up to leave, he noticed an unfamiliar figure standing in his doorway.

"Excuse me; you are Dr. Grissom, correct?" The soft-spoken young man appeared somewhat skeptical as he scanned Grissom's office.

"That is correct." Grissom shifted into his quirky scientist mode. He loved to do this, to knock people off-balance. "And you would be…?"

"Scott Bennington. CSI Level 2 from the Santa Clara DA in California."

The man was tall, at least six foot, with short dark hair and a lean build. He was most likely in his mid forties. He stood unobtrusively in the doorway, and extended a well-tanned hand out to Grissom, unaffected by Grissom's cheeky verbal inflections.

_Hadn't Ecklie said something about a new CSI?_

Grissom approached him, shaking his hand. "What brings you to Las Vegas, Mr. Bennington?"

"I'm here on a six-week rotation program. I am to report to a Ms. Catherine Willows, but I was told she was out at a scene, and I thought I would take myself on a tour of the lab."

Scott looked away from Grissom, his intense blue eyes taking in every detail of Grissom's office. Grissom got the distinct impression the man was cataloguing everything he saw. _He's clearly intelligent._

"I read your article in _Forensic Magazine_. The one on mass grave deterioration rates? It was very enlightening."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Grissom replied. Polite banter was not Grissom's forte, and he hoped this Scott Bennington would depart soon.

Scott must have read Grissom's mind, because he calmly dismissed himself two seconds later.

"I guess I should be going. It was nice meeting you, Dr. Grissom. I hope we will speak again soon." Scott's tone was polite and respectful.

"It was nice meeting you, too, Mr. Bennington."

As Scott went to leave, Grissom picked up the newspaper off his desk, determined to go speak to Sara about the article. Unfortunately, he didn't have as good a grip on it as he thought, and the interior portions of the newspaper slipped out onto his desk and the floor.

"I'll get that," Scott said, stepping back into Grissom's office and bending over to pick up the scattered papers.

"Uh… no, it's all right."

Scott ignored him, and organized the papers back into their proper order. He reached out with his right hand for the front page of the section, the page with Sara's picture.

Grissom handed it to him.

As Scott wrapped the front page around the section, and went to fold it in half, his eyes caught the photograph of Sara, and he paused.

Grissom sensed something was wrong immediately, and his apprehension grew as the younger man began to read Sara's article.

"Dr. Grissom, does Sara Sidle work here at this lab?" Scott's voice was soft, but heavy with some unknown emotion.

"Yes, she does. She works the night shift, for me." Grissom surprised himself as his tone grew possessive.

"Would you introduce me to her, please?"


	15. Past and Present

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Unbearable

**A/N: **Okay, everyone welcome in Mr. Scott Bennington. We all know why he's here, right? But hey, he's smart and polite and has nice eyes… remember Jordan Catalano of _My So-Called Life_? Scott has his eyes. And okay, so he's an idiot in this scene, but really, he's a nice guy.

And angst? Angst is fun.

* * *

Grissom couldn't believe he was letting his curiosity get the best of him. He was walking down the hallway, with Scott Bennington at his side, taking him to Sara.

He was even initiating a conversation.

"So, Mr. Bennington…"

Scott interrupted him, "Please. Call me Scott."

"Okay… Scott. How do you know Miss Sidle?"

Scott turned his head down and away for a moment, almost as if he was ashamed.

"She doesn't know me, but … I know her. I … met her a long time ago in California when I was starting out on the force."

Scott's laden tone lightened somewhat. "I was originally a police officer, but I switched to forensics in the early nineties. The science fascinates me."

"Me as well…" Grissom stopped himself from waxing poetical about the wonders of science as he spied Sara, Greg and Warrick all chatting lightly, waiting for him in the common room.

_Shit. Assignments._ _How could I forget? _

_And I can't talk with Sara tonight. She's got a homicide with Greg. It'll have to be after shift. I'll have to catch her before she leaves._

"Scott, you'll have to excuse me. I need to meet with my team to delegate assignments for the evening."

"Is that Sara?" Scott asked, staring at her through the glass surrounding the room.

"Yes, it is, and I'm afraid that I have to send both her and her colleague out to a crime scene. Introductions will have to take place another day."

"I understand. Which way is Ms. Willow's office?"

"Down this hall, make a right, third door on your left."

"Thank you, Dr. Grissom."

Scott and Grissom parted ways as Grissom walked into the common room to brief his team.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"The new CSI is a guy." Greg's voice was filled with disappointment. "Some old guy from California."

Sara smiled at Greg and ruffled his hair as they walked towards the kitchen. "Too bad. You shouldn't have gotten your hopes up."

They had both just gotten back from the homicide, and it was time for a break.

"Well, there's that hot chick standing next to you in that picture."

"Her name is Lisa, and yes, she is single and no, I won't introduce you."

"Aw… c'mon. Why not?" Greg whined.

"She just got over a bad relationship. She needs a break from men for a while."

Sara grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table.

"Unlike you," Greg teased, as he went to open the small refrigerator. "You need to _stop_ taking a break from men."

Sara glared at Greg, a glint of humor in her eyes, acknowledging the tease. "Knock it off, buddy."

"Excuse me, but are you Sara Sidle?"

Sara turned to find a tall, striking man standing in the doorway. His blue eyes captivated her, and her stomach immediately did a little flip-flop at the deep timbre of his voice.

Her independent streak rebelled, instantly squashing all romantic thoughts. _Oh no… no swooning women here, please._

"Yes I am. Do I know you?" Sara's tone wasn't quite hostile, but it wasn't friendly either.

Mystery Man seemed nonplussed as he approached her, standing entirely too close for comfort.

"May I speak with you for a moment?" he politely inquired, sending a mild glance to Greg indicating he wanted to speak to Sara alone.

Greg grinned at Sara, "I just remembered I need to go and check on something with Hodges. I'll catch up with you later, Sar, okay?"

Sara shot Greg a black look as he almost skipped out the door.

"So?" Sara looked him, defiance in her eyes. "You got rid of Greg. What do you want?"

The man fidgeted, appearing extremely uncomfortable.

"May I sit down?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure."

He sat in a chair opposite her, clearly nervous.

"My name is Scott Bennington. I'm here as a CSI on rotation program from Santa Clara, California. And I wanted… to introduce myself to you."

Sara looked at him, clearly baffled. "Okay…"

"And well… I know you. I'm sure you don't remember me, but I remember you, and how brave you were, and I, well… I guess I wanted to say that I'm glad to see you are doing okay."

Sara's eyes narrowed. "Should I know you?"

"You… well, your family… it was one of my first assignments as a cop. I'll never forget it, or you. I… this is embarrassing… I don't want to upset you, but… I was there… that night. I know what you went through… you left such an impression on me. You were so young, but so strong… and in the courtroom… and everything."

Sara's face was ashen and she looked away from Scott, emotions overflowing within her. She knew who he was. It was over twenty years ago, but when she looked at him now, she saw the similarities. This was the young cop who was at her home, the night her mother killed her father.

Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice was choked with grief and rage.

"_Get away from me. Now._"

Scott's face was stricken. "I'm sorry… Oh God… I shouldn't have said anything. I'll go… I'm sorry…I won't bother you again… I'm so sorry." He stood to leave.

Sara snapped back at him, "What did you think? I was just going to say 'Hey, that's great! Good to see you again! Thanks for puking on my floor!' Are you some kind of idiot?"

"Yes," he replied, head down. "I'm sorry. I didn't think at all and it was disrespectful and I'm very, very sorry. I was just so surprised to find out you were here. You… your case… really affected me. You have no idea how brave you were. It was amazing. I could never have done what you did that day in court."

Sara's tone was bitter, "I was a _child_."

"That's what was so impressive. You sounded like an educated adult. You were confident and poised. My sister was close to your age at the time and I knew she wouldn't have been able to do what you did."

He went to reach for her hand, but paused halfway and withdrew it slowly.

"I'm sorry. I never meant to upset you. I won't bother you again."

Sara said nothing as Scott left the room. Repressed memories were bubbling back to the surface, and she knew from her counseling sessions that she had to get away and regroup. Go somewhere to calm herself down and regain control.

Embarrassment at her obvious emotional state was beginning to set in. She left the kitchen and was walking towards the ladies room with her head down, not really paying attention to where she was going.

She turned the corner, and crashed full bore into Grissom, his body absorbing most of their impact so that they didn't fall into a big heap in the middle of the hallway. His only comment to their unanticipated meeting was a slightly surprised "Oof!" as he caught her.

The shock of his chest against hers, combined with Sara's distraught emotional state left her mind spinning, and she reacted defensively to the onslaught.

"Excuse _me_," she snapped as she pushed Grissom away, hard.

Grissom was clearly taken aback, and as he looked at her, he knew something had really upset her. _What had happened?_

"Sara, wait… what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said as she started towards the ladies room.

"Sara," Grissom asked softly, gently grabbing her arm to stop her.

The touch of his skin on hers affected both of them drastically.

Grissom felt the warm softness of her skin against his and he longed to feel more. Desire began to flicker within him.

Sara's defenses roared into high gear at his touch, and she yanked her arm out of his grasp, sending him a red-eyed glare of rage.

"_Don't touch me._"

Grissom grabbed for her again, his temper rising, and this time, his grip was strong.

"No, Sara. You are going to tell me what happened to upset you."

Sara stepped into his face, his hand still holding her arm, and stared him straight in the eye.

"Let go of me, Grissom."

"Not until you tell me what is going on."

Sara's voice, a growling whisper, dripped sarcasm. "I suggest you let go of me, before I start causing a scene in the middle of this lab. You wouldn't want that now, would you?"

Grissom paused, looking around, and realized that if they stood here any longer, they would definitely draw a crowd.

"You're right, I wouldn't. In my office. Now."

"No."

"You are going to discuss this with me, in my office, _now._"

"No, I'm not." Sara was defiant. "What happens in my life is my business, not yours."

"It is absolutely my business if it occurs here in this lab. _I am your supervisor_."

Sara twisted and with a strong jerk, she yanked her arm free. Red welts were appearing where he had held her so tightly.

"Fine. Then write me up. Suspend me. Knock yourself out."

She turned and walked straight to the ladies room, retreating to the one place where he couldn't pursue her.

Grissom's anger told him that she couldn't stay in there forever, and that he could wait her out. But the sight of the red marks on her skin, caused by _his_ hand, made him turn and walk away, letting her go.

_What have I become?_


	16. Persistence Pays Off

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Unbearable

**A/N: **This chapter describes Scott a lot better. Hopefully you'll agree with me that he's not such a bad guy. But still, we all know where Sara's heart belongs. And angst, it's still fun. It's a lot of fun.

* * *

Sara stood behind the folding table, and stared out into the crowd. _There are a lot of people here._

It was a gorgeous day. A light breeze was blowing, enough to lift the top pages of the pamphlets covering the table in front of her, but not strong enough to send them scattering all over the lawn. The white tent across from her was filling up with people; a seminar was starting soon. The open tent behind her held refreshments, and there was not a shortage of people there, either.

Sara had dressed up for today, and was not used to the prickling of panty hose, or the airy feeling on her legs. _Skirts are not for me._

"We were lucky," Ms. Ellen stated, interrupting Sara's thoughts. "The rain should hold off until late this evening. We should have a good turnout."

"I know."

"Sara, how do you feel?"

"Itchy. I don't like dressing up."

"No, dear," Ms. Ellen's voice held a touch of humor. "How do you feel… about this?" Ms. Ellen gestured to the scene around them.

"I'm not sure. Happy, I guess. A little nervous, too. What if something goes wrong?"

"I'm sure Lisa and Rose will handle everything on their end." Ms. Ellen let her words hang, allowing Sara to continue if she wished.

Sara studied the crowd, noticing a lot of families were here.

"I suppose it's good, that we're doing this. Maybe it'll help someone later. That they'll learn something today."

Ms. Ellen smiled at her. "Good. I'm glad you feel that way." And as she walked away, Sara felt as if she had just passed some unspoken pop quiz.

As the day lagged into the afternoon, Sara was growing restless. Manning the information table was pretty dull stuff. She perked up when she saw Greg coming up to her.

"Hey!" she called to him.

"Hi! How ya doing?"

"I'm bored to tears. I've done nothing but alternate between sitting and standing behind this table all day."

"Where's the bucket?"

"What bucket?"

"The _donation_ bucket. You know, charity… donation… Nick and Warrick and I chipped in. Oh, and Catherine too. She was impressed when she found out – I'm sorry that the whole lab had to know though. But hey, Ecklie was happy about it, right?"

"Yeah," Sara said, remembering how surprised she was when Ecklie approached her and praised her on her "excellent volunteer work" and how it would "boost public opinion of the personnel in the lab". _Whatever._

"Anyways, we all figured, if you can do charity stuff, we can too. So where is it?"

Sara was touched. "Here, I'll take it." She reached out and he handed her an envelope that clearly held some money within it. She put it in a small strongbox that was on the table, partially out of view. They would accept donations, but this was not meant to be a fundraiser.

"I'm going to go and get some free food. Do you want anything?" Greg asked.

"No, I'm all right."

"I'll be back and I'll hang out with you for a little bit. But then I've gotta go because I need to do laundry before work tonight."

Greg smiled and her and headed for the refreshment tent.

Sara wondered if Grissom would show up. After their altercation in the hallway, they hadn't spoken to one another. It was business as usual. She knew he had read the article, and that she was here today. Hell, the whole lab knew that she was here today.

Greg returned with a plate full of snacks and a large coffee. He sat on the ground while she sat in the metal folding chair, and they watched the crowd for a while as he ate.

"Mmulee phfit! Mreer kuffs doh mew buy!" Greg exclaimed with a mouth full of food.

Sara looked down at him, "What?"

Greg swallowed. "I _said_, 'Holy shit, here comes the new guy.'"

Sara panicked a little, and sure enough, there was Scott, walking towards her and Greg.

Sara stood as Scott approached the table.

"Hello, Sara," he said.

"Uh… hello, Scott." After his really bizarre and uncomfortable introduction a few nights ago, Sara had avoided Scott like the plague. He seemed to do likewise. Sara was grateful he was on swing with Nick, so she didn't have to interact with him.

He held out his hand, as if to shake hers, so when she reached out to him, she was surprised when he gently turned her hand palm up, placed a folded square piece of paper into it, and then wrapped her fingers over to contain the small package.

His touch lingered a little longer, and then he let her hand go. His hands were warm. She raised her head to meet his eyes, and he smiled gently at her.

She returned her focus to the paper, unfolding it. Surrounding what appeared to be a check, was a handwritten note, on white unlined paper.

_I understand your need to help. I feel it as well. Please accept this as my way to assist you, so that you may assist others. – Scott_

She read the check. It was made out to the shelter, for five hundred dollars. She was a little shocked. That was a lot of money.

She looked up again, and Scott was no longer at the table. She could see him in the distance, returning to his car. Her eyes followed him as he drove away.

A voice from her feet broke her vigil. "Hey, what was that all about?"

"He left a donation." Sara's voice sounded hollow.

"Yeah? Why? He isn't from around here."

"I dunno, Greg," Sara said, looking at the note again. "I dunno."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Grissom watched Sara from his car in the parking lot across the street. He was glad, for once, that he had hesitated. When he watched the tall man approaching the table, Grissom hadn't recognized him as Scott Bennington.

But when the man turned to depart, Grissom saw who he was, and the look on the man's face as well.

Grissom started his car, lost in thought, and drove away.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sara was off Saturday night, but on Sunday night she sought out Scott Bennington.

She found him in the room next to trace, intently focused on a computer screen.

"Excuse me, Scott?" Sara asked quietly.

He looked up from the computer and smiled at her. The blue light from the computer screen in the darker room highlighted the intense blue of his eyes, and Sara found herself momentarily lost in them.

"Hello, Sara."

"Uh… Look, I wanted to talk to you about your… donation. You didn't have to do that."

Scott's voice was kind. "I wanted to, Sara."

"And the shelter thanks you, tremendously. But you didn't need to do that, just to apologize for the other day." Sara was slightly defensive, she didn't want his pity.

Scott's eyes darkened as his face formed a slight frown.

"I didn't give you that donation to apologize, although in reality I do owe you one. It was extremely unprofessional for me to behave the way I did, and I am truly sorry for my actions."

He stood and faced her.

"Although I cannot deny that if I had it all to do over again, history would most likely repeat itself, due in fact to my great surprise in learning that you were here."

"Irregardless," he continued, eyes downcast, "it does not excuse my inappropriate behavior. Topics such as those are not meant to be discussed at one's place of work."

Sara gawked at the eloquence of this man. _What is this guy, a college professor?_

"As for my donation, I meant for you to have it, not as an apology, but as a show of my support for your efforts. I understand your need to prevent others from suffering as you have."

"I am not going to deny that your case had a profound effect on me. I was young and innocent to the darkness of society, as well as to the strength of mankind that is born out of adversity. It was an eye-opening experience, and it helped shape my career."

With this he smiled that same soft smile at her, making Sara shift nervously as she leaned against the doorway.

"At home, I volunteer at a different kind of shelter. My organization targets men, aiding them in their quest to control their emotions, and helping them learn to cope with the stresses in their lives. So, in reality, we share the same cause."

Sara didn't know what to say. She wasn't used to such openness. So she just looked at him, and he looked back at her. They stood there for a while, saying nothing, getting a feel for one another.

This was getting awkward. Sara was just about ready to say, "Well, I gotta go…" when he stepped towards her, entirely too close for comfort.

"Have dinner with me Friday night."

Sara's heart started to pound. It had been a long time since a man had asked her out on a date.

She looked down at the floor, breaking eye contact. Her voice was stumbling, unsure.

"I don't know…"

He was persistent. "Please. Let me do this for you. Consider it as an apology for my callous behavior."

Sara was wavering, and Scott must have sensed it, because he gently grabbed her hand.

"Just say yes," he said, his voice deepening.

"Okay… yes" she agreed quietly.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sara wound up enjoying her date with Scott on Friday night, much to her surprise.

He had the night off from work, and had picked her up around six o'clock. He had shown up with a bouquet of snow white daisies, their yellow faces glowing with the contrast, and she had to admit that they brightened up her apartment.

He had made reservations at a small Italian restaurant a few blocks off the Strip. The food was excellent, and Sara was pleased that he had accommodated her vegetarian needs, even though she hadn't told him about them. _I wonder if he asked anyone at work._

It was a calm night, so they went for a short walk. The conversation between them was easy, as Scott tended to ask her questions about unrelated things, and then continue with stories about himself. He dropped her off at nine, giving her time to get changed and get ready for work.

"May I see you again?" he asked politely.

"Sure," Sara replied. "You may see me again at work tomorrow." She smiled at him, teasing him a bit.

He grinned at her scoff. "That would be lovely, but I would prefer to see you again outside of work."

Sara faltered. She didn't know what the dating policies were with regards to work; she had never looked them up when she and Grissom… well, never mind that. Plus, she wasn't sure about this whole _dating_ thing.

"Relationships between co-workers are not mentioned in the union handbook, nor are they mentioned in the policies and procedures documents for the lab, Sara. This leads me to believe that it is neither acceptable nor unacceptable behavior."

Scott grinned devilishly and wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Yes, I checked."

Sara flirted back at him, "And what if I say no?"

"I will wait a few days and ask again. I am nothing if not persistent, Madame."

"Well then," Sara said haughtily, matching his tone, "I guess I will accept your offer."

Sara paused before continuing, thinking of her already full schedule.

"It will have to wait until next Friday, though. My weeks are full with work, the shelter and my class at the university."

"Then next Friday it shall be. I thank you for the honor of your company this evening, and look forward to spending time with you again." He gave a short bow and Sara had to laugh at him.

"Are you some knight or something?"

"If milady allows it, I shall be anything she desires." His gaze was heated and Sara backed off in a wave of shyness, opening her door, ready to end this before it got too… involved.

"Okay, well, g'night!" And Sara closed the door in Scott's face.

She heard him chuckle on the other side of the door as he walked down her hallway. She sat down on her sofa, her head in her hands, her heart pounding.

_What the hell am I going to do about this? _


	17. A Sign of the Heart

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Unbearable

**A/N: **Apologies for the delay. This was a very hard chapter to write. Let me know if you like it.

* * *

Grissom paused as Sara came rushing into the common room. She was late, and her hair was damp, as if she had recently showered. 

_Sara is never late. What's going on?_

"I'm sorry, I … overslept." Sara said as she tried to catch her breath.

Greg hid his laughter in a cough, and muttered quietly, "Yeah, right."

Sara shot him a look of death, but Greg ignored her, focusing his eyes on Grissom with a half-smile on his face.

"Thank you for joining us tonight, Sara." Grissom's tone was sarcastic. _Where was she? Greg knows._

"Warrick, you have the Parker rape from last night. Greg, you're with me. And Sara, since you feel that showing up to work on time is not a priority, you can finish up on the evidence from the Mayes homicide."

Sara glared at him. The Mayes homicide was an evidence boar. Sometimes at a scene, they didn't find enough evidence. At this scene, evidence was everywhere. They had arrested the suspect easily; a Mr. Joe Harlan, his prints and DNA were everywhere. He had priors, so they found him immediately, and he squealed like a pig. But the evidence from the scene still needed to be catalogued.

Realistically, it was a job better suited for Greg. Giving it to Sara was an insult. And Grissom knew it, but did it anyways.

Sara stormed out of the room after their meeting was finished.

oooooooooooooooo

Grissom wasn't surprised when Sara showed up at his office at the end of her shift. He suspected as much and was prepared.

_Perhaps I can find out what is going on with her._

Sara closed the door, but didn't sit down.

_So, she's going to yell. Fine. I'll get her to tell me what she's up to by having her scream it at me. _

_Either way, she isn't leaving until I know what's going on._

"What you pulled tonight was uncalled for," Sara said in a harsh voice. "I have been late for work once, _once_, in five years, and handing me shit work because of it was totally off-base."

"Why were you late?" Grissom asked her quietly, but not without some malice.

"It's none of your business why I was late. I was… had… a personal matter to attend to." Sara looked away from him.

"It is my business when you do not report to work on time. Just as it is also my business when you have a problem at work that visibly upsets you." Grissom's tone was superior. _You are going to tell me what is going on with you, young lady._

Sara was getting annoyed and frustrated. Grissom knew how to push her to get her to react, and saw that she was attempting to control her temper. Before she could speak, Grissom gave her another nudge.

"Is there perhaps a new someone in your life? I do hope it is not Mr. Bennington, as inter-office dating is frowned upon in this office. I wouldn't want to be forced to write a negative conduct report regarding this."

Rage crossed Sara's face, but then it was replaced by something much colder.

"You want to know what I'm up to." Sara said shrewdly. "You want to know if I'm dating Scott or not. That's what this is about. You are such a shallow bastard!"

_Oops. _Grissom was surprised. He never suspected Sara to catch on to him.

"Well, for your information, yes, I _was_ with Scott Bennington this evening." Sara was haughty. "We had a lovely dinner together."

Grissom's heart cracked. _She's dating him? Did she… did she sleep with him? Is that why she was late?_

"And, for your information, inter-office dating is _not _frowned upon in this office, as you quite adequately proved with Sophia!"

"I did _not_ date Sophia!" Grissom's tone was defensive.

"Oh, so she was just a roll in the hay for you? No wonder she left. You were more disrespectful to her than you were to me. I almost have pity on her."

"I didn't have sex with her, Sara… I didn't touch her at all! It was a _business_ dinner!" Grissom yelled at her.

"Yeah, I always call my business dinner associates, 'honey' the next day too." Sara sneered.

"You don't understand…" Grissom groaned at her. "Why can't you listen?"

"Listen? I've been listening for _five years_, and remember? You have nothing to say. Haven't we been here before?"

"You _don't_ listen, Sara. You just _talk. _Christ, you never _shut up._"

"You want me to shut up? Is that what you want? _Fine._" Sara stormed out of Grissom's office.

He assumed she had left, but she returned five minutes later, her eyes filled with tears.

"_HERE,_" she sobbed, throwing a piece of paper at him. "Problem solved."

The paper was older, and wrinkled a bit from being folded for a while. It was a request for a leave of absence form. It was _her_ request from three years ago. She had changed the date to today.

"Sara, this isn't what I meant."

Grissom's heart was pounding, his brain in denial.

_She can't do this. She can't leave. She won't leave. She likes it here. I can't believe she kept this._

"Bullshit. You've wanted me out of your life for a while. I know I need you out of mine. I should have left a long time ago."

Sara began to cry, tears streaming down her face.

"I can't work for you anymore, Grissom. I can't take this… I can't take_ you._"

Her words cut through him like daggers, slicing him to the core. The pain was too much, and he reacted instinctively in defense.

"Then leave." Grissom's voice was as cold as death.

Sara stared at him, her face frozen at his blatant admission that he wanted her gone.

"You want to leave? Then fine, be my guest. _LEAVE._" Grissom's eyes were overflowing with rage and anguish.

Sara was frozen, unmoving.

"_ARE YOU DEAF?"_ Grissom screamed her, subconsciously signing to her at the same time. "_I SAID 'LEAVE'!"_

Grissom pounded his fists on the desk, shaking everything, and pain shot through his left hand as he had hit some hard object hidden beneath the papers.

In his rage at the new onslaught of physical pain, he swept everything on his desk onto the floor with a crash. When he looked up and saw the raw fear in Sara's eyes, he realized what he had done, and what it meant to her to see a man behaving so violently.

Guilt flooded him, drowning his rage, and he stepped out from behind the desk, walking towards her.

Sara's face turned ghost white and she fled.

Grissom stood for a moment, amid the papers and debris, the consequences of his behavior soaking through to his soul. He ran from the office, desperate to find her.

He caught up to her in the parking lot, but she was in her car already. He stood in the middle of the road, blocking her from leaving the lot. The sun was just rising, he could feel its warmth on his back, and he couldn't see inside Sara's windshield due to the glare.

He panicked, wondering if she would hit him with her car, but he didn't step away as she came speeding towards him.

Her brakes screeched a little when she realized he wasn't moving. Her car stopped within sixteen inches of him, the glare making her windshield as opaque as the deepest fog.

"Please, Sara, forgive me. I'm sorry. Please, come inside and we'll talk. About everything."

The car didn't move. Neither did Grissom. Time passed and Grissom began to break down. He hands started to shake a little, emotions overwhelming him. Fear, guilt, sorrow, _loss._

He stepped aside, knowing there was nothing he could do to repair the damage he had caused today. His heart cried out for a flicker of hope, pleading for it, but there was none.

Her car drove by him slowly. He watched it pass, unable to see Sara inside.

He turned to face the back of her car, knowing he may never see her again.

His heart and his hands spoke for him, signing what he could not force his voice to say.

"_I love you."_

"_Please… don't leave me… my soul will die without you."_

He stood, watching the car depart. It slowed, and came to a stop a good forty feet from him.

Sara stepped out.

She turned to him, her body shaking visibly.

She spoke and signed to him, "_Why?_"

And as Grissom ran to her, she fell to her knees, sobbing furiously, each one shaking her body more than the one before.

He reached her and surrounded her body with his. He kissed her hair, her face, constantly murmuring, "_I'm sorry. It's okay. I love you. Please don't go._"

Her sobs receded, and she looked up at him, her eyes fragile, exposed, her heart screaming at the anguish and pain he knew he caused her. And through it all, he saw into her soul, and the love that she held for him.

His hand caressed her cheek as he looked down at her, his love for her overcoming him, overflowing his heart. Tears rolled down his face unhindered as he spoke to her.

"I love you, Sara." He smiled as he kissed her lips gently.

She clung to him, kissing him in return, and both were lost in their own private union of two souls finally meeting as one.

A fleeting thought passed through the back of Grissom's mind, not quite drowned out by the surges of joy and love he felt for the woman in his arms.

_Sara knows sign language?_


	18. A New Baseline

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Unbearable

**A/N: **Well, this is the final chapter. This fic was solely written to get both Sara and Grissom to the scene at the end of Chapter 17. I mean, how heartbreaking was that?

Well, hey, I thought it was heartbreaking. So now here's the chapter to get Sara and Grissom on common ground, so that they can have a relationship together. Following this chapter is a little epilogue, something I thought would be funny. I hope you all have enjoyed reading this. Thank you for your kind reviews.

* * *

"Let me take you home," Grissom said quietly to Sara while helping her to her feet.

He felt drained, and he was sure that Sara was most likely feeling the same way. Emotional release tends to do that, making you feel hollow and empty until your mind can cope with the realization of what occurred. Plus, his knees were starting to hurt.

Grissom guided her to the passenger seat, where she settled in quietly. He then adjusted the driver's seat to fit his height, and drove away quietly.

Luck was with him in one regard, it seemed nobody had witnessed their display in the parking lot.

Grissom was uncomfortable with the silence. Fear and uncertainty were beginning to build in the back of his mind, the hollow feeling receding. _What happens now?_

Once they arrived at her apartment, he walked her to her door. As she unlocked it, Grissom waited to see if she would invite him in. He wanted desperately to talk with her, reassure her that everything he'd said was true, and, most importantly, reach an agreement about what they would do next.

If they were going to have a relationship, a real relationship, they needed to talk about the risk factors. Work being the highest priority. The need to stabilize the chaos was prevalent in his mind.

Sara paused when he didn't follow her inside, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. Grissom shrugged shyly and Sara must have taken pity on him, because her expression changed to one more hospitable.

"You can come inside, Grissom," she said with a hint of amusement in her voice.

He entered and stood while she went to the kitchen. He heard her opening the refrigerator, and pouring herself something to drink.

"Would you like anything?" she called.

"A glass of water or juice would be good, thank you."

Grissom's awkwardness was compounding. As she brought him a glass of water, he sighed and said, "Thank you. We should talk."

Sara smiled at him, and touched him lightly on his arm. His smile was automatic, and she motioned to the sofa.

"Have a seat."

Grissom sat and as Sara sat next to him, he put his untouched glass of water on the coffee table.

He turned to her, and found her smiling at him. But her look was one of compassion rather than wanton desire. She reached out and held his hand. Her touch was comforting. _At least she's somewhat happy I'm here._

"So," Sara said matter-of-factly, "you love me."

He sighed, "Yes, I do. I have now for a while, although I didn't recognize it."

He met her eyes openly.

"What I feel is an overwhelming need to have you in my life. I don't want to… no, I _can't_ live my life without you in it. I admit it, and I also admit that it is pretty selfish on my part. But I won't deny it. That is how I feel."

"You really hurt me, Grissom. You toyed with my emotions, and you never gave me a straight answer. You are going to have to understand that I can't forget that."

Sara's voice was stern, but she hadn't let go of his hand.

He looked away. "I know."

"You realize," Sara stated, "that if I didn't know how to sign, I would not have understood what you said. And I would have left the lab. Permanently."

"Yes." He paused for a moment, wanting her to know that he felt badly about his inability to communicate his feelings. But his curiosity was piqued about her newfound skill.

"When did you learn? Where? Why?"

It was Sara's turn to look away in embarrassment. He saw her cheeks flush slightly.

"I took an adult education ASL class on Monday nights at Western Las Vegas University. It actually ends this Monday. "

Sara sighed. "Look, I'll be honest, okay? Because realistically, I'm going to have to be if _this_ is going to work." She let go of his hand to gesture between the two of them.

"My counselor, her name is Dr. Velez, she recommended two things for me. One was to do something new, just for me, and the other was to do something as an "outlet for my empathy"."

"You won't believe how many times I heard that outlet line before I started volunteering at the shelter. Anyways, when I saw what classes were offered, I had this great idea that I could learn to sign, andthen I could volunteer at an organization that helped people, I was thinking the elderly, who were deaf. Kill two birds with one stone, so to say. Dr. Velez thought that was okay, but wanted me volunteering right away. She kept nagging, and I wound up at the women's shelter."

"Now that I'm there, Ms. Ellen thinks I should be responsible for the cases we get where the client is deaf. Kind of like an interpreter, but not really, since it will most likely be a one-on-one session between me and the client."

"Do you remember that case we had, with that deaf boy, and that director said it was an 'us' vs. 'them' thing? I felt horrible about that for weeks. It shouldn't have been that way. Warrick and I… well, I… judged that woman and it was wrong. I figured I could make up for it."

Sara held her head down a bit, admitting the real reason she chose the ASL class.

"Plus, I know you sign. I don't know _why _you sign, but you must know it for a reason."

"My mother is deaf, Sara." Grissom said quietly.

"Oh."

"She has a hereditary condition, called otosclerosis. It affects the ossicles, the bones, in your middle ear, causing gradual and permanent hearing loss. I have it too, and I've had surgery to correct it. But it is possible that one day I will become deaf as well."

Sara was quiet as he told her this, her demeanor changing to one more pensive.

"I didn't know."

"I know. I didn't tell you. I… I thought you would think less of me." Grissom said honestly.

Sara looked at him, her eyes reflecting hurt again. "You really thought that?"

"Yes, I did. Like I told you before, I really don't think I'm what's best for you."

"And I told _you_," Sara replied firmly, "that it isn't up to you to decide that!"

She stared at him, and he met her gaze, the two of them not speaking as a small contest of wills erupted around them.

And as shortly as it started, it ended. Sara laughed.

"Okay. So we'll agree to disagree on that one for a while." And much to Grissom's surprise, she leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She also didn't back away, and Grissom found himself getting distracted by having her so close to him.

She sighed, and leaned against him. He put his arm around her, almost instinctively. It was a nice feeling.

"See, this isn't so bad," she said quietly. Sara raised her head up to look at him, and he looked down at her, and he couldn't help but kiss her again, lightly and slowly.

When they broke away, she looked at him, and whispered, "Hi."

"Hi."

She kissed him this time, a little more passionately, and Grissom's determination to talk things out began to dwindle. More interesting ideas were forming in his mind.

Sara smiled and backed away from him, her eyes twinkling devilishly. Grissom suspected she knew the effect she was having on him.

"We should talk about work," he said firmly.

"Work doesn't need to know, Grissom. I can be professional about it. So can you."

"Sara, eventually they are going to find out."

"Not really," she replied confidently. "As long as we don't come into work or leave work together, there is no reason anyone should suspect anything. I won't treat you differently, as long as you don't treat me differently."

"You don't think that everyone will notice the… the _change_ in us? Our behavior?"

"Are you anticipating changing into someone else, Mister Grissom?"

"Well, no. But you, m'dear, are going to be.. dare I say… pleasant?"

Sara lifted herself away from him and gave him a light punch in the arm.

"Who says I'm not pleasant now? Don't flatter yourself there, either, Romeo." She was laughing. "And since you've been so oblivious, I'll let you know that I get along a lot better with everyone in the lab now. It's just _you_ that aggravates me."

"Well, the feeling is indeed mutual," Grissom taunted her.

"Look." Sara's tone was serious. "They can suspect all they want, but if we don't give them any concrete evidence, then they have nothing. The worst that will happen is that we'll spend a lot of time at each other's apartments, rather than going out in public." With that she gave him a saucy look.

"I guess that's not _so_ bad," he leered at her. His expression changed when he realized that she had most likely planned this out a while ago.

"You've thought about this, haven't you."

"Yes, I have." Sara was honest. "And if you're really concerned, we can keep our vehicles at home and one will pick up the other. Or we use taxis. Although, I think that's a little extreme. I would hope that people have better things to do with their time than spy on us."

"Sara… you'd be surprised."

"I know… people are just scary sometimes." She waited a moment before continuing.

"So, Grissom, it can be done. Without the lab knowing. And if eventually everyone _does_ figure it out, we have a track record of not letting our relationship affect our jobs. That is, assuming we don't end this beforehand."

She shot him a look that he couldn't understand.

"Sara… I have no idea how to go about doing this." Grissom decided it was time to be blunt.

"I'll be honest, as well. I haven't been in a relationship for a very long time. They are… complicated and until now, they weren't worth the effort."

He took both of her hands in his. He wanted her to know he was serious. "But, now… it is. It has to be. I wasn't happy with the way things were. I tried that route. Now, it's time to try a different one."

"I can almost guarantee you that I'll make mistakes, and you'll probably want to smack me. But I need you, and I'll need you to be patient with me while I figure out how to make this work for us."

She sighed and squeezed his hands lightly. "I can't guarantee anything either. My relationships with men don't tend to work out well. I think I'm a little stubborn sometimes."

"A little?" Grissom chided.

"Okay, so… a lot." She stared at him, suddenly serious. "This is going to be difficult, Grissom. Are you sure you want to do this?"

He met her eyes. "I have to, Sara. I… I love you."

He watched her eyes fill with tears, and he pulled her close to him. _Jesus. I've never felt so scared in my life. This **has** to work!_

She broke away gently after a minute, wanting to speak to him again. She wiped her eyes, a tad frustrated with herself.

"God, I'm such a mess."

"I don't mind," Grissom said gently.

"So what happens now? We date, like normal people?"

Grissom smiled. "No, we date like us." He sat up straight on the sofa.

"I would like to see you, Sara. Would you care to have dinner with me tomorrow afternoon? Say around 6 o'clock? I will pick you up here, at your apartment, and bring you to mine."

She smiled at him, "That would be lovely. I accept your offer."

She then frowned slightly, remembering something.

"You should know, that on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I am at the shelter until work. I won't give that up. I need it."

"I wouldn't ask you to." Grissom didn't want her changing her routine for him.

"One dinner," he said pointedly. "And beyond that, well, we'll just have to see what happens."

"Agreed," Sara replied. "But I do want us to be honest, okay? And to _talk?_ If it isn't working out, then you need to let me know."

Grissom's tone was somber. "I will. Please… let me know as well."

"Don't worry, you'll get an earful." She smiled at him. "Have you ever known me to hold back?"

Grissom laughed, "No. Never."

"So no worries there. Now, is there anything else you feel we should talk about? Anything on your mind that we haven't covered? Other than the fact that we're both insane?"

"Yes, actually. There is one thing."

"Oh," Sara's face was curious. "What's that?"

Grissom pulled her against him, and kissed her, hard. She looked a little dizzy when he raised his head to meet her eyes.

"We need to talk about you, and all these _clothes…_"

- THE END - (unless you want to go read the Epilogue)


	19. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

**Spoiler:** Unbearable

**A/N: **In a way, I could see this story continuing. My problem lies with Grissom.

I just don't see Grissom as a nice, mild-mannered, shy guy - but I guess a lot of folks do. And I can't help but wonder where TPTB are taking Grissom's character right now. My dark, moody, death-loving, emotionally-repressed alpha-male Grissom is now downright cheerful and friendly. So this makes it difficult for me to continue. Perhaps I'll write a case next. One that involves the whole cast more. Brass never showed up in this fic, although I wrote a scene with him, and it didn't fit. So I owe him, and Catherine, some writing time.

* * *

Sara had tried to let Scott down easily, explaining to him that she really wasn't ready for a relationship at this time. He didn't take it well, and Sara was moderately relieved when he returned to California.

She and Grissom had been dating for two months. Nobody at work had said anything directly, but Sara knew that Catherine was on to them.

Catherine knew Grissom better than anyone, and although Grissom remained very professional, Sara knew he was happier. Catherine would give Sara a small look every once in a while, the unspoken question hanging in the air. But Sara ignored it, and according to Grissom, Catherine hadn't said anything to him at all.

It was rough for her, hiding everything from Greg. She was sure he suspected something as well. _Someday I'll tell him_.

But the challenges of keeping their relationship private weren't as difficult as Sara's apparent mental obstacles.

Sara was having a difficult time learning to call Grissom "Gil".

"Please, honey. My name is Gil," he whispered as he nuzzled his face against her neck.

"But, Griss… oh god…"

"Gil," he whispered fiercely. And then he did something wonderful with his hands, and Sara was lost again.

She had to give the guy credit. Despite his stated hiatus from the dating scene, the man knew what he was doing. And he did it very, very well.

Their routine of driving to and from each other's apartments, mostly twice a week, was working nicely, and Sara wasn't quite sure whether he wanted anything more. She was happy with things as they were, anything more serious tended to leave her feeling nervous.

Dr. Velez was surprised when she had told her about Grissom. She was happy for Sara, but warned her to take things very slowly. Sara agreed; she wasn't in a hurry to mess with an apparently good thing.

However, that didn't keep her from relocating some toiletries and a spare change of clothing to Grissom's apartment.

"Sara, my mother is coming to Vegas this Friday. I'd like for you to meet her." Grissom dumped this bombshell on her after dinner at his place.

"Uh… okay?"

_Don't panic._ _You're an adult, and you know sign language. It's just his mom. Oh God, his MOM._

"Relax, she's harmless and she already knows you sign. It'll be fine. And it won't be just the three of us, my mother's best friend lives in Henderson. She'll be there as well."

_Okay, time to panic. Best friend?_

Grissom smiled at her, clearly aware of her discomfort. "Sara, relax. It's just lunch."

He cleared away the dishes as Sara sat there, mind spinning. He returned to wrap his arms across her chest, and he tickled her ear with his beard as he whispered, "Clearly, you are not relaxing. Let me help you with that…"

ooooooooooooooooooooo

They were standing outside of a small café, and Sara's palms were sweaty. She kept wiping them on her pants as she stood next to Grissom.

He was scanning the crowd, looking for his mother. He must have spotted her, because he stood straighter, and took her hand in his.

"I see them," he said happily. "I can't wait to introduce you."

"Me too," Sara said weakly. She could tell he was delighted to see his mother, and proud to be introducing her, but that didn't change the nervousness she felt.

He squeezed her hand softly. "Just be yourself," he whispered.

As they approached the round table, Sara saw the two older women sitting and smiling at her kindly. One she didn't recognize, but upon closer study saw the similarities between her and the man beside her. Grissom had her eyes.

The other woman was facing away from her at first, routing through her purse, but as she and Grissom approached, Sara recognized her immediately. The other woman smiled gently, a tad embarrassed, and signed, "_Hello, Sara_." She turned to face Grissom and signed "_Hello, Gil. Good to see you_."

Sara thought now would be a nice time to crawl into a hole and die.

Grissom signed to both his mother and the other woman, and left Sara's side to give his mother a hug. "_Mother, this is Sara. I wrote to you about her._"

"_Hello, Sara." _Grissom's mother signed to her, a gentle smile, not without a trace of humor, was on her face_. "It is nice to finally meet you._ _My name is Josephine, but you may call me Jo if you'd like._"

"_Thank you, Jo."_ Sara signed in return.

"_I do not need to introduce Elaine? You know each other?"_ Josephine smiled kindly at her.

"_No, that isn't necessary. Hello, Mrs. Moyer._" Sara signed to both Grissom's mother and to Elaine. Elaine smiled in return, shooting her a look of apology.

"_Mom, what do you mean?"_ Grissom signed, "_Elaine? How do you know Sara?_"

Sara spoke and signed to Grissom, "_Elaine Moyer is my teacher. At the university. She taught me how to sign._"

- THE END -

**A/N:** How embarrassing would that be? God, I think I'd die.


End file.
